Onward, Thankfully
by ZombieJazz
Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.
1. Onward

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Hank eased into the doorway of E's bedroom. Gazed in.

Been quiet long enough that he'd started to think that Erin must've passed out up there too. Wouldn't be surprised. She'd looked pretty spent from the drive. From work. From whatever time her and Halstead – whatever they'd managed to talk about, or not talk about – when she'd gotten in before she'd turned around and come right over there. That likely said something. Was trying to reserve judgement on if it said something about where Jay was at. Or where Erin was at. Or the relationship. Likely more of a combination of all of the above. But hadn't expected to see her that night.

Not that he'd really seen her yet. She'd gotten in the door and headed upstairs to see her brother. See if she could catch him before he drifted off. Apparently had managed to. He'd heard them talking a bit. Had thought he'd heard her reading to him. Had heard some music on low and then no more even masked mutters. Just silence. Let that go on for a long while but had taken it upon himself to go up and take a peek. Both of the kids needed their sleep. Doubted either of them would be getting it in a cramped hospital-style twin that was in E's room. Beyond that, Erin should be doing her sleeping at her own place. Unless she had something else to tell him.

Sometimes he felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop on that. Erin didn't say much. But she wouldn't. Especially over the phone or Skype or whatever the fuck she got him caught up on. Neither of them had a whole lot of time for that anyway. And the regular trips home hadn't been as regular as expected. At least from Erin's end. Hank knew how these things tended to work. Life tended to happen where you were. Makes it hard to pick up and go half-way across the country every second weekend. That quickly falls to the way-side in most long distance attempts.

Though, knew Jay had gotten himself over to New York more than Erin had been getting herself back to Chicago. Not that he said a lot either. Said even less than Erin. But that wasn't entirely unexpected either. Situation was complicated. Awkward.

Hank was doing his best to stay well enough out of it. Didn't have the time to be dealing with it anyway. E. The job. That took up most of his time and energy. Erin and Halstead could figure out the will-it, won't-it of their own relationship. If it was even that anymore. When his girl was over there the night before Thanksgiving after barely getting into the city after a twelve-some hour drive. One that he knew did her no good. Too much to think about. Alone, in the dark on those roads. On a route and trip that triggered memories that Erin didn't need to be dwelling on. Bananas peels.

Supposed though that with this kind of trip, easiest for her to drive. Better than her sitting on runways for hours at JFK and O'Hare. Both ways. Wasn't exactly a stellar weekend to be doing any kind of air travel. Just money and headaches. Ultimately a bit of a waste of time.

Been supposed to be him and E sitting on the runways. Would've kind've liked it that way. Get to see Erin's place. Get a real gauge on how she was doing. If she was taking care of herself out there. If she was behaving some. On the job and in her free time.

Getting some fucking time away from the city wouldn't have been something he would've balked at too much at this point either. Sometimes a change of scenery can do you good. Maybe it would've done E some good. Play tourist a bit. See some other dinosaurs. Sights and sites. But the kid just wasn't up to it. At all. Reality was the job situation wasn't exactly up to it either. And Hank wasn't too sure that Halstead was in the headspace for that kind of Thanksgiving either. He actually might've preferred to be left alone in Chicago for a few days. Or for Erin to have decided to stick around New York when he bailed on his and E's behalf. Let Jay go out there on his own. Let the two of them get some alone time in. Let that kid try to spin his head straight a bit after the latest. Or see if Erin could help twist it around for him. At least for a bit.

But was what it was now. Erin had decided to come this way. Easier, harder. Didn't really make a difference.

He allowed a thin smile. Knew Erin must've heard him come up the stairs. She was still awake. Though E was passed out.

Could see what she'd been in a hurry to get up there with, though. The illustrated hardcover of Fantastic Beasts. Scratch that off the Christmas idea list. Erin had apparently seen fit to spoil her brother. Or she'd just been thinking of him. Not that it took rocket science to know E would like that book. He was obsessed with that book. The movie. And this illustrated one? Looked like some of the things Camille had lining the book shelves in the house. Only this one was all the fantasy beasts. Not that E much seemed to care. And big font. Big, bright, colourful photos. That's what E needed these days. Sure any time Erin had been on the horn with him in the past week or so she'd heard the running monologue about "The Crimes of Grindelwald". Was going to be a long year waiting for that one to come out. With the way Magoo turned into a broken record anymore. Least he skipped through a few different tunes. Though, could do without them too. E sure seemed to think he needed to be reminded multiple times every fucking day that the new fucking Star Wars movie was coming out on December 16. And that he wanted to see it. And that he thought he'd be able to see it best in IMAX. Over and over and over-a-fucking-gain. Kid was lucky he loved him. And that he was brain damaged and working on eventually checking out. Else he might end up having to smack him up the side of the head a bit more than he did.

Erin didn't seem too concerned about the weight of the tome that was resting on her chest, though. Could hear now that the music that E had on wasn't his usually "retro" thumping and bass. Hadn't thought so. Christmas music. Apparently he couldn't wait for them to at least carve the turkey tomorrow and do up the dishes before turning it on.

Hadn't anyway. And Hank could see Erin was taking that in to a point. That she was staring at the Christmas lights E already had strung up around his desk's hutch and window frame.

"Had those up since Halloween," Hank gravelled at her.

Her head turned slightly. She met his eyes some. "Stranger things," she put lately.

Hank allowed a quiet sound of amusement. Might've been where E got the idea. Maybe he sort of wished he could tell her that E and some of his little buddies had had a sleepover, binged the show and dressed up at the characters to go to the RIC shindig. Fireworks off the pier. Fucking Beetlejuice on the big screen in the freezing cold – for a kid that sick. But that'd be a whole lot of half-truths. Closer to an outright lie. Because he suspected the lights had a whole lot more to do with Magoo just picking focus points to get him through.

But supposed that was strange too. Still figured they all needed something to get them through. Maybe E did more than the rest of them. In a different way. But job only reminded you so much of how fucked up everyone else around you was. How much better off you were or weren't from the rest of society. Really a matter of perspective. Bt of an unfair judgement game. How you found the checks and balances in all that. How you weighted hardships.

But could be worse.

Could be.

So hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month. Let E have his focus point. No matter how fucking annoying that meant the seven-, eight-weeks leading up to Christmas would be. And knew then it'd be ice fishing or Spring Training or … who knew … that he'd latch onto. Already hearing about some of that anyway. But oh well. It would be a slog.

But could be worse.

Could be.

Knew that Erin was only looking at the lights so much anyway. Knew she was likely more taking in the room. The situation. Just thinking. More than she should.

Because it could be worse. Could be.

So he just gave her a little smack. Stared at her with the locked gaze they'd finally managed. Because he hadn't gotten much more than a brushed-by hug when she'd come in. Hadn't gotten to talk. To look at her. To measure her. To remind her that it could be worse – could be. And that she had other things she needed to be focusing on. Other priorities.

"Let him sleep," he rasped and nodded at her.

But he didn't wait to see if she'd taken the silent order for her to get out of the room. Just headed back down the stairs. To work at his own reminders about keeping shit in perspective. About moving onward. And how you did that.

And knew you didn't do that laying on your back in some dark room. Life didn't work that wait. And sure didn't wait for you to get up and roll with it either. Kicked you whether you were standing up or laying down. So might as well be bracing yourself on both feet. When you had good ones.

Head straight. Eyes forward.

Onward. Was the only option.

 **AUTHOR NOTE: This was originally posted as a chapter in Hereafter. But I've decided this will be better as a short collection of chapters set at Thanksgiving (and possibly Christmas) in the circumstance of Erin being away/still in New York City. The chapters scenario may or may not have an impact on how I play out Hereafter, which if you haven't read it is more O/Ss inspired by S5 episodes and recast to reflect this AU.**

 **There will be a second chapter set at the Thanksgiving weekend from Erin's perspective very shortly (within 36 hours, likely less - so you might want to check since FF doesn't bump or alert if chapters are posted less than 24 hours apart)**

 **Your readership, reviews, feedback and comments are appreciated.**


	2. Support

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin let her hand drag down the upper support wall of the staircase. She let herself feel the familiar paint job even though she knew that Hank was sitting right there in the front room. That he could see and that he hated when they did that. That her and Justin had gotten lectured about that endlessly. That they'd both been assigned the chore of having to scrub down that wall, which wasn't exactly easy. But that it'd never broken the habit of putting their hand up as they came down the stairs. A pat against it for the home team. For the W each and every time they went down those stairs. To face the two adults raising them – and the day – out in the world that wasn't too fair. Even when you had a decent roof over your head and people who loved you.

Erin wondered if there were days now that Hank wished he hadn't scrubbed the handprints off that wall. Though, she also thought he didn't anymore. She could see marks and smudges and she almost wanted to stop and stare there too. To see if she could pick out which ones where hers. And which ones with Justin's. And which ones were Hank's. Because she'd seen him do it too – even though he'd spent years chastising them. E wasn't tall enough yet. Beyond curling his fingers around the edges. And there was a thick layer of smudging there. Ones that she knew must be his. And ones that she suspected made Hank's heart skip a beat every time he spotted Eth do, because he got so nervous about him on the stairs. No matter how able and capable he argued his son was. But she also suspected that that thick line that bordered on greying of teen-boy greasy and unwashed fingers – that had been who knew where – would likely never be scrubbed away either. A final mark of what Eth was able and capable of. A waiting canvas – a growth chart – for him to hopefully be able to reach higher and join her and Justin's smears on the rest of the off-white paint.

If Hank had seen – or sensed – her doing it, though, he hadn't given her a look. He was staring at something on his phone. Work. With one hand anyway. The other hand had his rye on the ready.

He gave her a glance as she came into the room – and a grunt – jutting his chin at "her spot", across from him, from his spot, the kid spot, the interrogation spot. Though, at least he'd placed a glass of whiskey there for her too and she thought she could use it. But she knew she wouldn't be drinking it. And she knew he'd take notice of that too. Because he had a way of seeing everything. Remembering everything. Knowing everything. It was a bit of a blessing – and a curse. Not just for them as his kids – wards – but as a family. For him too.

But she sat in the spot – next to the glass – anyway. Because if he didn't notice that night – he'd notice tomorrow. He stared at her. In a way that felt like he already knew. That he'd known before she'd walked in the door. That now he was just deciding if he was going to say anything. Though she also didn't think he would. Because that was Hank.

"Ethan's asleep," she provided. Even though she knew he'd already deduced that. That he'd seen. And he'd not-so-discretely had urged her out of that room and to let her baby brother sleep. But that had been hard. She'd stayed there even after Hank had laid out his orders. Because she had things on her mind. Because she needed to think. And she wanted to be near him. She wanted … to soak in … all of it … to try to get reality into perspective. To try to settle. And build up the courage she needed in the coming choices. And what it meant.

And right now … it meant that she just wanted to cut Hank off before there was an opportunity for him to say something. To ask something in a Hank way. A non-ask ask. One that started indirect but then would become more direct. Much more direct. And his face would say exactly how he felt about it. And she knew those feelings would be mixed. Her own feelings were mixed. But one feeling wasn't. She knew that she wanted to – needed to – talk to Jay before Hank made any sort of face or comment about any of it. And Jay … he hadn't been in a place to talk about any of this. She wasn't sure he was going to be now either. Not this weekend. Despite her making the drive. And … that was a problem. And … it said a lot. And it just made her feelings even more mixed.

"Mmm …," Hank just grunted at her again. "Yea. He's pretty tired."

That was likely an understatement. She'd barely recognized him going into that room. Six weeks since she'd seen him and he still looked so emancipated. She talked to him on Skype near daily but … seeing him in that bed – little more than a glorified hospital bed – was different. He looked so frail. Like an old man.

But it – Ethan – had stared in her face exactly why Hank had backed out of coming New York way. He couldn't travel with Ethan like that. Not right now. The car ride would've done him in. She could see it. And she didn't think it required much imagination to know that Eth navigating the long walks in two of the nation's largest airports – and dealing with any delays on the busiest travel weekend in the year – wouldn't have been feasible either. That even Eth having this whole week off school hadn't garnered him enough rest and down-time to build up his strength for Hank to consider it an option.

And she thought she was okay with that. Because … she wanted … she needed … the private time with Jay. And that would've been hard with her baby brother and Hank in her cramped rental. And, she really didn't mind having a reason to get out of New York. Or to take off a day early. To not be the martyr working the long, extra hours. Thirty and a day. Not this year. And not with this job. Though, she would've … if it got her time in faster and got her out on bail … parole … back to Chicago … faster. But she already knew that wasn't going to be how any of this worked. It wasn't proving to be a fast process. And from the conversations she'd had with Hank, it was pretty clear it wasn't going to be. Being 'Voight's girl' didn't count for much of anything good right now. It wasn't going to help her. Not after what happened. And not while the city was going through 'reform'. While the country … while police … were too.

Still, she had sort of wanted Hank and Eth to come. She'd … wanted Hank to see she was doing okay. That she was trying her best. That she was trying to make up for her mistakes. To grow up. And to grow. To just fix things the best she could. From where she was. And maybe she wanted him to be proud of that. To express it the tiniest bit.

She wanted him to see her apartment. She wanted to show off what she'd learned about the city. Or at least the recommendations that people at work had given her about where to take family – since she really didn't get out much to have any real spots. Beyond the place by work that she got really over-priced coffee. The kind that made her miss the swill in the bullpen in Intelligence. And the refinedly bad cup of Joe that Hank made. And the surprisingly good one that Jay managed at home. Not that she was drinking much off right now either. And her body was feeling that too. It was feeling a lot.

Though probably less than Ethan. Because you couldn't look like that and not … feel sick. Not be in pain. She wondered if he even felt human.

He wouldn't have been able to survive her plans of taking him to the American Museum of Natural History – so he could tell them all again that Field and Sue were better than anything they had there. He wouldn't have survived the Intrepid to see the Enterprise Space Shuttle. Or any kind of outing to stand on a boat to gaze at the Statue of Liberty or the top the Empire State building to look at the cityscape. That wandering around a neighbourhood or two. Or hitting up the Met or the Museum of Immigration or any of the Christmas markets or the High Line or Times Square or Central Park or comparing and contrasting Lego stores and Fifth Ave to the Mag Mile wouldn't have been feasible at all.

She wasn't sure what would be right now. Beyond what she'd just spent the past two hours doing. Laying in a up-propped bed with her little brother reading to him and listening to music. And trying not to chastise herself too much for not being here for any of it. When she should be.

"What do the doctors say?" she asked.

And that just got a longer look – where she got to watch him take a slow sip of his drink.

"You look good," he put to her. So apparently she wasn't the only one who had things that they didn't want to talk about. Not right then. Not the moment she set foot in the door.

But she had … so many things she wanted to talk about that trip. To try to plough through and she didn't know where to start. Or how to start. Because she was tired too. Though, she suspected not as tired as Hank. Because he somehow looked aged from the last time she'd been home too. She could see age spots on his skin and wrinkles on his face that she hadn't seen before. And she'd noticed as she took off her coat and coats that his jacket smelled of cigarette smoke. And, even though she knew he wouldn't do it in front of Ethan or anywhere in the house or the yard, looking at him sitting there right now she wondered if it was just second-hand smoke from the street or the parking lot or the Social Club or the bar – or if Hank was smoking again. Because he looked like he needed a cigarette. But he didn't.

Just like she sort of suspected he likely didn't need that drink either – because when she'd gripped him briefly when she'd come in she could smell the booze on his breath too. He hadn't just poured a glass because she was home. Though, he likely deserved a drink. Sometimes she wasn't sure if … or how … Hank … or any of them … would pull through to the other end of all … this … sober. And she wasn't sure what that meant either. Because she knew that Jay was drinking more than he should again too. And she knew that … she was struggling to not.

But still she weighed if the comment was again a quiet jab – an inspection he'd already done of her, an assessment and he'd already reached his conclusion and was looking for collaboration.

"I feel good," she said.

It wasn't exactly true. She wasn't even entirely sure if it was true in any capacity. But it was too. At least she was in a better spot than before. A lot. And she felt like … she was moving toward a new phase of the plan. That other things were being set in motion now – because they had to be. And she was already working out what that meant. How to get there. How she wanted it to work out. How she could make it work out. If she could.

But it wasn't a could. It would. Because it had to.

Hank just gave her another grunt and still stared at her. But his phone vibrated again and he picked it up to look at it. It got more than a glance – an actual read.

"Work?" she asked. He just grunted. "Need to go out?" He made another passive sound. "I saw that …" she was going to say her room. But … it wasn't. Not anymore. "… the room was made up."

He gave her a glance at that. It got another measurement. "Yea," he acknowledged. "Olive stays over with him sometimes when I get held up. After lights out shit."

Erin allowed a little nod. She knew that. It was the … solution … that made the most sense. It was … Olive doing her part. Her trying to make her own amends, trying to figure out how to fit into this misfit family. But something about it still … stung a bit. But that was all part of this … adjustment. That seemed like it was just a bit of endless adjustments. Ones that needed to be made to get settled. Eventually. Soon.

"I can stay," she said – maybe a little too hastily. "If you've got to go."

That got a more real look. And he put the phone back down. "No. Just got something popping. Don't need us on scene. Narcotics can have at it."

She allowed him a thin smile and at least picked up the glass. Maybe the feel of it – the clink of the cubes against the glass – would help her find her way.

"Guess that's better than Homicide," she said.

"Boy Scouts," Hank muttered but gazed at the screen on the phone that hadn't darkened yet.

"They expecting the weekend to be popping?" she asked.

He just made another sound. "Tension," he rasped but folded his hands and gave her some more attention. More than the phone. "Don't need Black Friday turning into a red one."

"With you staying in town, they got you on-call?" she asked.

That got another grunt and he gazed upward at the ceiling for a beat before looking at her again. "No," he said and gestured dismissively. "Right now - just Denny Woods playing grab-ass. All hours. Wouldn't matter if I'm here or there."

"That really grab-ass or is he just forcing you to bend over?" she put back to him. The phone vibrated again. He didn't pick it up that time.

"That'd be what he calls a 'difference without a distinction'," Hank said.

She gazed at him. "He's trying to push you out?" It wasn't a question.

And Hank shrugged. "He's coming at me."

"Meaning?" Erin pressed.

But he just scrubbed at his face. "Doesn't matter."

She kept his eyes. "It does matter," Erin said and cast her own eyes to the ceiling. To Ethan's room. To the mess that was up there. And the impeding mess the family would be wading through in the years that came.

"More then put in my twenty to walk away with a nice pension and benefits, if he gets his way," Hank said flatly.

Which was such bullshit because even though elements of it were true – that Hank had put in his time – she knew that he wouldn't be … he wouldn't know how to function without the job. And Erin didn't want to think about what Hank would be like if he outlived Ethan – and didn't have a job. Didn't have the job. Because she'd gotten glimpses of the person he became in the midst of loss – the choices he made. And it wasn't pretty. It wasn't good for him. And some how, Erin suspected that once Ethan was gone – if Hank outlived his other son too – that Hank would check out on them. He wouldn't much care anymore if he lived or died or what lines he crossed. He wouldn't have much to live for – or reason to go home, or maybe much of a home to go home to. So they needed to … held him find other reasons and purposes too. To prepare for that worst case scenario. If it came.

When it came.

Upstairs – that night – she had to adjust her reality again. When. Not if. But sometimes she was able to live in denial about that when she was so far away. And that wasn't exactly right either. It was more reason that she thought she needed to get home sooner rather than later.

And her face must've again said too much. He must've read her frustration – and maybe some of her pain … and her anxiety about the whole weekend and the conversations that needed to be had – because he looked her in the eye again.

"He hasn't got anything on me, Erin," he told her. "And he forgets that I know his tricks. I taught him some. And learned his others from him."

"He's not the kind of cop you want to lock horns with, Hank," she said.

"Too late for that," he responded.

And she breathed out her annoyance and scanned the front room. It was a bit of a mess. Toys out. Hot Wheels and tracks everywhere. It likely hinted that at least Henry had been over. Maybe Olive too. Or maybe it hinted more at just fatigued Hank was – or how much Eth was hurting – because he didn't usually let the family sitting space sit in that state. Not after the kids were out of sight.

"H and E," he muttered and she gave him a glance. He was staring at the track stretching across the room too. "Can play with that shit for hours. Didn't want me to take it apart. Wants to work it again tomorrow when Olive's got Henry over for chow."

Erin allowed a thin smile at that and looked at the track again too. It was mostly just straight pieces. She wondered if Hank had bought them or dug them out of some box in the basement or attic. Though, they looked too new to likely be sitting around as relics from Justin's childhood. Maybe Eth bought them with his allowance money, but she suspected it was more likely that Jay had brought over the collection he'd bought for at the townhouse for playing with the boys. Running the tracks down and down the stairs. And that somehow made her a little sad too. But she supposed at least her it was getting used.

Hank stared at the track too and scrubbed at his face a bit. "Think Santa might have it easy this year," he grumbled from over there and she gave him a confused look. He gestured to the track. "Two birds with one stone. Apparently these jokers have got the fourteen-year-old and two-year-old market cornered. Least in this house." He allowed a thin smile – not for her – and shook his head. "Cami would've liked that."

Erin stopped looking at him and stared at the track too. Because she sensed that maybe he didn't really feel like being looked at. He seemed … more wounded than when she was home in October – for around Justin's birthday. But maybe he was just … more tired. Bordering on exhaustion. He wasn't as young as he used to be to be dealing with any of it. All of it.

"Ethan's a good uncle," was all Erin managed to provide. But it was true.

Hank made a small noise. "Good uncle. Good brother. Good son," he said flatly. "Just a good boy. Good man."

And there had been so few times Erin had ever heard him call Ethan that. A 'man'. And she wasn't sure she saw him that way. She wasn't sure she ever could. Not her baby brother – that she'd held in her arms as a baby and changed diapers and wiped his ass. Not when she still just lay in bed with him reading him a picture book until he fell asleep and left her to gaze at his shelves of toys and walls of sports heroes. Not when he was still just fourteen and deserved a childhood that she wasn't really sure he'd gotten even though they'd all tried. And maybe that was the point. After all that – he'd more than earned the title of 'man' – already. Before his time.

 **AUTHOR NOTE: This chapter will have a continuation that will remain from Erin's perspective.**

 **The second-half might be posted in less than a 24-hour period, so you might want to check, as FF doesn't seem to bump or send out alerts if there isn't a 24-hour gap.**

 **Your reviews, feedback and comments are appreciated.**


	3. Necessary Outcomes

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Hank's rotated his eyes back to Erin. He eyed her again. And she shifted a bit. She felt awkward under his gaze that night. More so than she wanted to admit. More so than she ever wanted to. But … their dynamic — just like her dynamic with all the most important people in her life right now — was still readjusting. After what had happened. After her choices.

But that was going to have to change again. This weekend. To start shifting again. To accelerate the the transition. To phase into a new phase. To start another adjustment.

And it was hard. Harder than she wanted it to be. But she knew … the past year … more if they were going to be really honest … had changed things a lot. And they needed to be honest. Anymore. Now. Always. The good. The bad. And the ugly. That what Hank had taught her. It'd been one of the firm rules in the house. That, and that you show up for family. That showing up — being there, being present — it was about seventy-five percent of the battle in establishing love. The rest — relationships, responsibilities, obligations — it fell into place eventually when you committed to being there. When you were there.

That's what she'd been taught. It was how Hank and Camille had tried to raise her. And Justin. And Ethan. And it'd always been when she'd fallen away from that — truth, honesty even in the face of shame or fear, and when she'd stopped showing up — that things fell apart. That she fucked up.

And it just wasn't an option anymore. She was going have to be honest this weekend. Brutally. In a way that made her too vulnerable for her liking. Vulnerable in this house. Vulnerable with Jay. Even vulnerable with Ethan. When she still felt like she was working at re-earning the right to be any of that.

And she knew she wasn't comfortable with it. She felt it in her being. She felt it right then as the guy who raised her stared at her. And she wanted to squirm.

"You do look good," Hank finally told her — as she tried to be still under his microscope. "Mean that."

She diverted her eyes a bit. Because she was afraid he meant something — that he saw something — that she wasn't ready for him to see. That she wasn't ready to be honest about yet. Not with him. And she thought he was going to press it.

But instead he gestured at her — as sweeping movement with his hand. "Gussied up. You look nice. Healthy.."

She glanced down at her outfit as the realization set in that she was still in her monkey suit. What she had to wear to work. Clothing she wasn't entirely comfortable in because somehow it always felt like a costume. It didn't quite feel honest — or real, or true to herself.

New York City business attire. It wasn't her. She wasn't sure that New York could ever really feel like her. Not the place. Not the people. Or the mentality. She wasn't New York. She was the midwest. She was Chicago.

"Grown up," Hank added flatly while she stared at her outfit. While she fidgeted with the blouse's buttons and wished she still had something upstairs in a drawer — in her room, not Olive's or the guest room or whatever Hank called it now — that she could pull on instead. But she didn't.

And it was harder because she knew Hank was selective — judicious with his words. And 'grown up' — she wasn't sure what that meant. What the meaning behind the words meant in that moment. But she didn't want to think about it too much. Her mind was overburdened as it was.

"I kind of hate this shirt," she muttered instead.

He allowed a quiet smile at that. This thin, sad smile that seemed to be about the only kind that had crossed his lips in a long time. And he just twisted at his glass more.

"Remember when Camille would have to put on the nice stuff for work," he said — giving the glass that sad, little smile — not her. "Peeling it off about as soon as she got in the door."

Erin let her own sad smile tug at her lips too. Because she did remember. But she knew Hank must be hurting. He must be exhausted. And he mustn't be entirely present in the moment. Because that was the second time he'd mentioned her. And he didn't do that.

Or he hadn't. Maybe he did now. Because things were different now. Because he was here — alone — dealing with all of this. And she knew … it must be exhausting. It must be lonely. And it must hurt so bad. Because she knew it hurt her from 800 miles away too. But here — she could see, she knew — it'd be different. And she was reminded of that the handful of times she came home.

Reminded of how she'd failed. Him and Ethan. And Jay. And herself. Even if she was working hard to fix it now. Even if things were getting better. Because … she was in a better place. She was healthier. She had grown. And she was doing better. She just … needed them all to do better. Together.

That was the goal. It was more of an objective. A mission that wasn't optional.

"She was more of a jeans and sweater girl …" Erin provided for Hank. Because she could feel he needed something. She just wasn't sure what. And she wasn't sure how to give it to him — to help him. When he was like this. And when she'd be leaving again in a few days.

"Mmm …," he grunted, still staring into his whisky. until he brought it up to take another slow sip. "You clean up nice, Kiddo," he told her as he brought now the glass.

She fidgeted. Because she felt uncomfortable with that compliment too.

"Yea …," she tried. "I left right from work. I thought I'd stop on the road to change, but …" she shrugged.

"Mmm …," he allowed.

But she knew there was more to that. The questions around why she was in such a hurry to bolt out of the office that she didn't stop to change into something more comfortable before getting on the road. If that meant that she was struggling on the job. Or she was hating it. Or she was just being negligent. Doing the work half-assed. But she wasn't. She couldn't. That wasn't part of the deal. And it wasn't her. And she hoped Hank knew that. Even now. That she was doing the best she could to the best of her ability. The way he'd taught her. The way Camille had taught her. Together. In their own separate ways with their own separate objectives and hopes for her.

And he'd been supposed to see that that weekend. She was supposed to get to talk to him about what she was doing. And her talks with Cassidy and the District Attorney and the State Attorney her. To update him on how she was trying to get back. How she was working towards it. That she was trying to get it to work. In every way she could.

But she knew there were more questions — more worries and concerns in him —behind that grunt. Why she didn't change out when she had to stop to fill up her tank. Why she didn't change while she got into the city — at the townhouse.

And that would mean he had other questions. Ones that were painted in the crease of his brow. The wonder — and the worry — about why she was even there and not in her own home that night … right now.

But she also sort of suspected he might know – or at least have some suspicions of his own about. That he likely had some of the answers all of his own. Because he lived there. He saw Jay. And she suspected Hank likely knew more about what was going on with him than she did. And that … hurt too. Especially with the way he was looking at her right now.

"Cassidy must've cut you loose pretty early," was all he provided though.

She allowed a small nod and twisted the glass in her hand – even though she knew her holding it and the clinks of the melting ice cubes were likely drawing extra attention to the fact she wasn't drinking. But she was taking the out. Grabbing it anyway. Because Hank only gave so many of them.

"He was pushing everyone to have their inboxes cleared and paperwork in by noon," she said.

Hank sipped his drink and stared at hers. "Likely wanted to get home too. To the family. Kids," Hank said.

And Erin nodded. It was a given. Brian Cassidy wasn't a Dog Cop by any means. And she definitely didn't get the sense he was the father of the year. But it was clear he was a family man. He lived by the job — needed it for his own sanity and purpose — but also had commitments and reasons that kept him there. And likely dictated how he pursued some of the files and interviews and interrogations they had to do from the bits and pieces she'd learned about his past and his kids' pasts. He could be like a dog with a bone too. But at the end of the day — he just wanted to go home and he wanted to make sure everyone in their group got home too. So there was that. It helped.

"He still okay to work for?" Hank pressed.

And she nodded again. "Yea. He's fine."

She wasn't sure what more to say about that. In some ways Brian Cassidy reminded her of Hank. As a man and as a cop. In other ways, he didn't. But he wasn't a bad boss. He was just a boss. A supervisor. And as far as those went – she'd had worse. Though, there was still some of the awkward connection issues with how she'd landed in that position. And Benson. And her rental situation.

But there were other things that needed to be thought about. And really the whole situation … all of it. The living situation. The job situation. Her relationship situation. The family situation. It was what it was. Something Hank liked to say. Only it wasn't. It never really had been. And it couldn't be now.

And she'd rather think about that than worry about what kind of boss Brian Cassidy was or wasn't. He was a knocked-around cop trying to make good, working in a supervisory role after years of running game on the streets and U.C. He was a cowboy turned local sheriff, who some days seemed like he just wanted to get to his kid's hockey practice and other days was nearly chewing someone's face off. An accused — or someone in the office. Depending on how the research and interviews and interrogations and paperwork was shaping up for all the files in this case. In trying to make a difference and shut some of this down. In putting some people away. Of trying to find a little bit of justice in a world that wasn't too just.

So she could respect that. She could find some level of respect to him. It really was just that Erin didn't like being in a position where she was indebted to someone. Someone else. Or that she'd placed Hank in a position where he was. Though, she supposed Hank was indebted to a lot worse people than Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy.

"That's good," Hank offered. Because he'd continuously maintained that having a boss — a supervisor — that had some respect and appreciation for family commitments was the key to having some sort of balance in this field. Finding some sort of sanity and stability. And maybe he was right. Erin just thought he'd be more right if that boss — and the position — wasn't half-way across the country.

"It is good," he pressed again, because she mustn't have illustrated the kind of response he wanted to see out of her. "Wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow. Dinner."

She gave a little shrug. But he eyed her again. Under the microscope again. And she hated it.

"Must be tired," he said. "Long drive."

And she shrugged and looked into the glass. "It wasn't that bad."

Only it was. It was too much to think about – driving a route she didn't want to think about. To think about the things that Nadia would've been thinking in that trunk. About her knowing it was likely her last ride. Knowing that it was the end of her life.

And Erin – now – on that same road, in a much more comfortable position, trying to think about her own life. To plan it. Her future. To know she'd get home. And that felt unfair. And it felt worse knowing she was stressing and having anxiety and frustration over things – choices, experiences, people, family – that Nadia had never gotten to have. Exciting, happy … a little scary … things that Nadia had deserved too. That Erin would've liked to see her work through step-by-step too. That she would've liked to help her get through. And would've liked to have had Nadia there during … all of this … too. Step-by-step.

Nadia would've called her out before this whole situation had ever gotten to the point it was. In some ways, Erin thought, if you traced it back enough there was an argument that none of it would've ever happened — it would've all happened so differently — if Yates had never happened. If Nadia was still there.

"Jay didn't meet you at the door?" Hank put to her more bluntly. But at least it drew her out of her thoughts going that way again.

Because she'd spent too much of the past twelve hours mulling it over. And thinking about what Nadia would say. How she'd tell her off. How she'd say that she shouldn't treat Jay like a house husband. How she should let him drive. Sometimes. Trust him. More too. and she was right. She needed to. Especially now. But that was a dynamic they were both still working through too. Adjusting to.

And it was hard when they were so far away from each other. Living their own separate lives — when they were supposed to be making a life together. When they needed to. Especially now. If they realistically still thought like they could. And maybe with how things had been the past couple weeks — if she was going to try to act like they'd been worse than … the past months — was the conversation that worried her the most. Because she wasn't sure he was in a state to have that talk. And she wasn't entirely sure what the outcome of the conversation would be. If they were honest with each other.

Still. she let out another slow breath. But it only lasted so long. Because Hank was still looking at her — still weighing her. So Erin rotated her eyes away from him. She stared at the blank screen on the television. She stared at the Xbox sitting in the entertainment center.

"Him and Will were playing some new game," she muttered.

She left out that Jay was clearly well into a six-pack all of his own. Or that the amount he'd been drinking lately had been becoming a bigger and bigger concern for her. But one she could only manage so much from the East Coast.

But it wasn't like he hadn't greeted her. It wasn't like they'd ignored each other. It was just … that it was clear … he didn't want to talk. Just like she knew that if Hank and Ethan had come to New York for the holiday, she suspected that Jay would've used it as an excuse to stay back in Chicago and avoid crowding the cramped apartment. Because he didn't want to talk.

Because she'd been trying to talk to him. Because she'd gotten an incredibly awkward and upsetting call from Upton telling her that she needed to talk to him. Because he wouldn't talk to her — his partner. And she was worried.

And it had hurt on so many levels. It wasn't that she was … upset … at Hailey for calling. She was glad she'd called. She was glad … that someone had his back. But hearing someone else call Jay their partner struck her all wrong. And knowing that Upton was there and seeing it — knowing what was going on — when Jay didn't tell her a thing even when she could see it in his face on the screen or hear it in his voice. He skirted around it. Because it wasn't just his partner that he didn't talk to. Erin knew that.

So she'd worried about him all week too. When he wouldn't talk to her. And when he wouldn't pick up the phone. When she knew Hank must be seeing it at work — and he wasn't saying anything to her either. Because they tried to keep professional professional. And personal personal. They tried not to be family when it came to the job — only the job made you family. And it was just all so fucking complicated.

But she knew Hank knew that — sensed all that — too. And that there must be worry there too. About Jay. And about the status of their relationship. And about what that would do to her. And her ability to keep her head on straight and do see … all of this … through. To do what she needed to do.

But she really didn't want to talk to Hank about any of that right now. Because she didn't know the status of anything. Jay hadn't told her much of anything. She needed to talk to him. He needed to talk to her. But that wasn't going to happen right now. Not that night. Not after her drive. Not getting home to him with his brother and buried in violent video games and well on his way to being drunk.

She didn't want to see him – or talk to him – like that anyway. She wasn't in a state of mind to deal with it. So coming over here – it was better. For now. It'd been supposed to help her find her footing for the weekend. To use Eth as her foundation — to help find her stability like he'd done so many times in his life without even realizing. Though, she wasn't sure he had that night. And she wasn't sure that had ever been a fair burden to place on a little boy. Especially now. He was the one who needed to be carried. He was the one who needed others to bare the weight. Not the other way around.

But she also could tell from the feel of Hank's eyes on her that she didn't need to say any of that. That he'd likely picked up on it too. On Jay. On appearance there. On all her reasoning. In his own way. Just like he always did. Because he knew her. He raised her.

Boss. Friend. Father. It was confusing too. She wanted to keep working on making that less confusing this weekend too.

"Star Wars," Hank said flatly after his prolonged examination of her. She allowed him a small glance. "The video game," he provided. "E's been name dropping."

And then she knew what he was talking about. Because Eth – and Jay – had mentioned it. The new game. Battlefront 2? Or something. The one that had just released … ahead of the movie.

The game her and Jay had talked about as a Christmas present for her brother. In their conversations that always tried to be so mundane and normal and not entirely capturing either of their realities that they were struggling with but just wanted a bit of an escape from. Until they could merge their realities again.

And maybe that was bad. Maybe it was wrong they'd settled into that habit. But sometimes in the daily communications the mundane — just trying to keep it normal — was easier. Because otherwise they might both have to acknowledge just how lonely they were. How much they were struggling with their jobs and their lack of friendships and relationships in the places they were. About how much they just wanted it to be over and done with. Though she wasn't sure what talking about things being 'over and done with' would ultimately mean.

So instead they talked about … vacuities about work. And Ethan. And Will pissing Jay off. And television and sports and news and politics. Until he did come into New York. And then as much they did talk they mostly just held each other. They filled space together. They took up each others space to try to fill that space — that hole — until they could see each other again.

Because the loneliness … it was a dark and deep hole. And she thought they were both starting to slip into it. Maybe Jay was passed the edge now.

Maybe there was some way she could try — she had to — get him pulled back onto level ground this visit home. But part of her wasn't sure. Not with what she'd seen at the townhouse. And maybe partly because it wasn't Star Wars Battlefront that Jay and Will had on the screen when she'd come in the door.

"No …," she muttered. "Some first-person-shooter thing." And then she muttered even more mutedly – but purposely not silently, "that he shouldn't be playing."

Because maybe she wanted Hank to hear — to know that she was … frustrated. With that too. With him for not telling her just where Jay was at. Not directly. As much as she was frustrated with Jay setting himself up to slip farther into that hole.

And more — she was frustrated with what she could and couldn't do about it in the current situation. About what it might mean for their current situation in the entirety. And how she wanted to deal with it. If she was ready to deal with it. If Jay was ready — able — to deal with it too.

She really needed him to. Maybe that's what he needed to hear too. He was needed. He was wanted. He had to still be there. He had to hang on. He had reason and purpose and value.

She just needed him to talk — to her — and for them to be honest with each other.

They could manage that. She hoped. It was the necessary outcome.

 **AUTHOR NOTE: The chapter before this was posted less than 24 hours ago. You may want to check to make sure you didn't miss it.**

 **The next chapter will be a continuation and wrap of this scene. It will be from Hank's POV. You will then get a chapter of Erin/Jay — likely from Jay's POV.**

 **Your readership, feedback, comments and reviews are appreciated.**


	4. Not Tonight

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Hank just kept watching her. His girl. But she was doing her best to avoid eye contact. Could tell she had a lot on her mind. Something going on in there. Likely a lot. Could see that rolling off her. But could tell she didn't much want to talk. Didn't much want him to even see what it was — whatever it was — with how much she was finding other things to look at. Other topics to shift to.

But supposed he was okay with that too. Because he didn't much feel like talking just then either. Good to see her. But also sort of would've preferred if she hadn't shown up until the next day. He just didn't really feel much like shifting into parental mode with an adult child right now. Not that night. Such a fucking loaded territory as it was. And could tell that whatever it was — and had his fair share of guesses since he got to see her other half day-in, day-out in the bullpen — it was going to be even more loaded than usual.

Whole situation — fucking dynamic — with Erin was just loaded anymore anyway. Just fucking waves. Thought dealing with J had been a challenge in the whole power struggle of father-son dynamics and him going from a kid to a man — or so he thought. Completely different ballgame with Erin. With a daughter. And just so many fucking more layers to it. Added layers that just added to the mess lately too.

Lately. Fuck lately. Since Camille had been gone. Just got progressively more complicated with Erin. Her choices. His choices. The job. Family. Fucking shemozzle.

Her being halfway across the country sure didn't help the situation. Wasn't like space had done much to let things calm and level out. Give her time to sort herself out and get her head on straight. Even if it looked like she was working at getting herself back on track — getting into a better place — had made things a lot more complicated on the home-front. And knew it'd just fucked with her in other ways.

Worry. That's what she did now. Least it seemed to mean she was burying herself in the job to distract herself. To stay out of trouble. To clean up the mess faster so she could get to where — what — she wanted. If that was still what she wanted when she managed to get out to the other end of all this.

But life still usually found a way to give you enough time to worry about the things you wanted to worry about. Maybe the things you needed about. But he just didn't have it in him that night to mitigate all that worry. To talk about all her worries. That usually manifested themselves as criticisms of his parenting — and fucking interrogation about their every waking minute when she wasn't around — that he didn't want to deal with.

She had her life right now. Him and E — they had theirs. They all needed to just get on living them. Managing them. Not trying to micromanage each other by remote. That just stressed them all out even more. Knew it'd really fucked up E during her October visit. Didn't need to spiral out into that again this time. Too much mop up after.

So they all just needed to stay level. But holidays — Thanksgiving — seemed like it had a way of making sure that didn't happen. Hoped though they could at least put off the vamp up to the spin out until tomorrow. If she wasn't going to just let them try to glide through the next few days unscathed.

Too much to ask. Could see she was scathed from the drive. Suspected she was scathed from trying to manage Halstead and their relationship by remote the past couple weeks — because he was out of sorts too. Too much. And going up and seeing Magoo so washed out after putting in what he suspected must've been an overnight or very early morning on the job to peel out of there so early and then drive twelve hours straight through? That would've scathed her too.

But hoped they could get through the rest of her ass-sit in that chair at least unscathed with each other. Didn't want to deal with his girl with her shorts in a knot. But thought it might escalate to that. Because something was going on. Could tell. Could see it.

Would like to hit pause. But also — told her she could talk to him. About anything. Something he was still working at re-establishing with her. Getting her to believe and trust and act on again. So they didn't end up where they'd ended up before.

So couldn't cut her off and tell her to shut up too much. Not if she decided she actually wanted to talk. But she wasn't likely going to decide that if she couldn't even bring herself to hold his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.

Vamped up his own worry too. Just what she had going on in that head of hers.

She gestured at the blank TV she'd been fixated on. "Is Ethan even playing the Xbox right now?"

And Hank stared at the thing for a long moment too. Gave some thought to the question. To what it actually meant and where she might be going with it.

"Bit," he allowed. "More sticking with the racing games. Car games. That … Minecraft thing."

Thought about clarifying more. Because he knew that it likely boiled down to her asking about the status of E's sight. But a giant discussion about Ethan's health — that was turbulent territory that he'd prefer to hold-off on. Not too night. He was too tired. Too deep into his own bottle.

And didn't know what to say anyway. Beyond what he'd said. E still played the thing. He still sat on the far end of the couch — closest to the screen — and tried to play his games. Tried to watch his shows and sports and movies. That he could see. But it was better to stick to things where he didn't have to track around too much. Didn't have to be spotting things. That there wasn't too much motion or flashing or colors. That he did best with that.

But he could tell she wanted to hear him say all that — now — because her eyes finally rotated back to him. And she stared. Stared until it looked like a plea.

"He looks so sick, Hank," she said.

And he scrubbed his face. Because what the fuck was he supposed to say to that.

"Erin, don't want to do this tonight." That's what he could manage. Honest, straight-forward answer. Hoped she'd listen. But sometimes — a whole lot of times — his girl's listening skills left something to be desired. Usually had to repeat himself more than once.

"You couldn't come to New York," she pressed. "And here — he's not even strong enough to play his Xbox? To see it?"

Hank smacked at her. Because that wasn't entirely accurate. Wasn't sure that those were two statements that belonged together. A fucking long weekend trip across the country — in a car or airports, in an unfamiliar bed, dealing with walking and stairs and E wanting to push himself to visit his sister and to see the city — wasn't the same as the kid having some trouble seeing a screen. Wasn't even in the same realm of comparison. One was just reality — E's sight was impaired and it always was going to be at this point. The other — Hank was just protecting his son's energy and stamina so that they weren't dealing with days or weeks of repercussions in an already busy time of year. Pretty fucking different. And he knew Erin knew that.

So they just stared at each other until he took a deep breath.

"Know he looks frail," Hank finally allowed.

"He looks like … a junkie," Erin said. "Or … an AIDS patient. A late-stage AIDS patient."

That got another smack. Because now she was just prodding. Purposely using language to try to get a reaction out of him. And he wasn't interested in doing it. Not right now.

"Because he's on those meds," he nodded at her. She knew as much. "They're doing what we need them to be doing."

"They're supposed to be making him look like he's on his death bed?" she pressed. Tone to it that time.

And he glared. Kept her eyes until she was the one who flinched. The one who looked away. Because that wasn't the kind of language they were going to use around this. It wasn't reflective of reality — and she fucking knew that too. And she sure as fuck knew better than to be using language like that as levels like that when E was just upstairs.

And the reality was that — yea, this medication, it was some heavy, powerful shit. That it was knocking the shit out of his son in a very different way than some of the other treatments and trials they'd had him on. That it made Magoo look sick. Really, visually sick. There was no mistaking that his kid was battling something. And that it was an uphill battle. Any passerby on the street could see that anymore. This wasn't just some crippled kid on crutches with some battle scars anymore. That wasn't the conclusion the nobodies would draw. Even the casual onlooker could tell — could more than see — that E was a sick little boy.

But that said — the medication was doing what it was supposed to. So far. It'd stopped the progression in its tracks. There'd been a plateau in his vision. Arguably there'd even been some success in his optic nerve rebounding some — giving him a bit of the sight back. But the real change was that Hank had some real moments — days even — where he could see his son again.

E's personality shone out again. His boy had some clarity. He wasn't in as much of sputter. The fog around him seemed to lift. To wax and wane more. And even though he fucking crashed out — and could crash hard — his stamina seemed a little better. Magoo seemed to feel like he could handle more. And Hank had seen evidence that he could. A little. Bit by bit.

Mentally and emotionally — his son was clawing back. Pushing through. He just got tired — fatigued. Really fatigued. Still so fucking easily. And he needed his rest. Because of his disease. Because of the medication.

Because it was doing what it was supposed.

Erin just sighed at him though. Because again he hadn't engaged. Not the way she wanted. And wouldn't matter what he said anyway. She wouldn't be happy with the information he gave. Ever. Because he wasn't a doctor and she always wanted to hear it direct from the horse's mouth. That wasn't an option right now. Not with where she was at — where she was living. So she had to settle for his second-best. Which she didn't seem to think — ever — was to the level of clarity, promptness, completeness or quality she wanted. Because when you got down to it what she wanted was a say in treatment decisions. A say in the medications. She wanted to know all the options and to know all the possible scenarios and outcomes that could arise out of each and every one.

But that just wasn't how dealing with all and any of this worked. And it sure wasn't how it could work when she was the sister — not the parent. When she was 800 miles away.

And he just didn't want to deal with that back-and-forth and interrogation that had developed between them. Not that night. That information — that discussion — it was for clear heads and eyes. And he didn't think she was in a place to have that that night. And he wasn't in a place to keep level toned in dispensing it either. Didn't want a fight.

She needed him to listen. To let her vent some of her frustrations and worries. Okay. He'd sit there. He'd nurse his drinking. And he'd give her his ears. But he wasn't going to get into a conversation. And he wasn't going to fight.

"His eyes?" she tried again. "His sight?"

"Neuroplasticity retraining's helping."

All he said. All he was going to give her. Because — same. Not the time. She needed to accept that. Needed to listen to him too. His wants and needs in all this. Right now — what he needed was … not to get into it.

And shouldn't have to say more anyway. They'd talked about this. Like a fucking broken record. Erin kept pushing him to become as much of a broken record as E. Was letting her worry and guilt turn her into as much of one as him too.

But she knew. Knew that the neuroplasticity rehab was doing him some good. Helping him with his balance and the fatigue. Helping with the dizziness. The autonomic dysfunction in all of this. And helping with his eyes. Helping retrain his eyes — which was retraining him on how he perceived the world around him and his notion of space and his place in space. In the world. Helping him — his brain — to figure out where to put his eyes and how to move them and adjust them and keep them set in the spots where he could see the most. Helping him keep his footing. His place in the world. It was helping.

She knew that. He'd told her that. E had too. The neuroplasticity was one of the first real things that Magoo had latched onto as something he could see progress with. That he didn't understand. But had quipped to his dad that he felt like a Jedi. Like the therapist was teaching him Jedi mind tricks. To cope with life. So more power to it. He'd dish out the money to pay for it. Because it was helping. When there were a whole lot of things that seemed like the supposed cure was worse than the condition itself. And Erin knew all that too. She'd seen it.

So she should see this now. Let herself understand and accept it for what it was. At face value. That it was helping. Leave it at that. Right now — that said enough. More than enough.

"The blurriness?" was what she responded with though. How she pressed harder. Trying to put him on the other side of the table in the interrogation. The ones that she spent her days doing now. Interviews and interrogations. Prep to make sure all this shit lined up for when it got in front of judge and jury. Ready for any holes the lawyers went trying to poke into all the evidence and research. Or the fucking legal loopholes they could find.

But this wasn't an interrogation. And he wasn't on trial. Didn't stand under any sort of accusation. Though, sometimes he sure felt like both his older kids wanted to do that to him. Accuse him of all the errors that had brought them to where they were in their lives. To try to point out to him all the errors he was making in raising Magoo.

J had done the same. Apparently having grown kids out of the home while you had a younger sibling still growing up under your care just made things more fucking complicated. They went and got all sorts of opinions about parenting. Thought they got to express them even from hundreds of miles away.

But Hank didn't have time for it. They weren't living in the reality that he and E were having to cope with each day. So they could shove their opinions up their asses. He'd keep them abreast of it as much as he could — when he could.

Tonight — he couldn't. Wasn't in the headspace. Needed to get her to see that. To hear it.

"Only can expect so much more improvement at this point," he said much more directly. "He's got glasses."

"Glasses and 'neuroplasticity retraining'," she mumbled and looked away. "And AIDS drugs."

Hank smacked again. He was done. Wasn't going to tolerate the bullshit. Wasn't going to do this with her. Had done this with Justin. The game. The button pushing and the recasting of reality. The denial about Eth's situation — while making it worse than it was and ignoring the pressing realities that needed to be addressed all at the same time.

"Demyelination medication," he rasped hard – his voice slightly raised in barely restrained anger.

Because he was done. He was stopping this. Last chance for her to listen before he took leave — and asked her to do the same. Send her home to her fiancee to let out her frustrations. Likely where she should be for anyway. For more than one reason.

"We aren't doing this tonight." It was an order that time.

She looked at him. But he knew she could see the sternness there that time. Hoped she'd see what was behind it, though. That it wouldn't turn into a thing. Not for the holiday.

"You've got other plans?" she said.

He gestured at his drink. "Drink this," he said. "Peel and chop veg. Look at some ads."

Her eyes stayed on him. Long time. She looked so fucking tired. Could see some cracks there. Ones that told him that she couldn't have any of those conversations around E tonight either. No matter what she was letting her fatigued mind and body — and anger and frustration and avoidance of a whole lot of other things in her life — convince herself of.

 **AUTHOR NOTE: Okay this chapter was getting super long so it was split into two. The chapter before this was posted less than 24 hours ago. You may want to check to make sure you didn't miss it.**

 **The next chapter will be a continuation and wrap of this scene. It will be posted very soon. It will still be from Hank's POV. You will then get a chapter of Erin/Jay — likely from Jay's POV.**

 **Your readership, feedback, comments and reviews are appreciated.**


	5. Other Plans

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 *****THE CHAPTER IMMEDIATELY BEFORE THIS WAS POSTED EARLIER TODAY. PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU DIDN'T MISS IT.*****

"It's been a crazed week, Erin," Hank offered and gestured upward. "Fall break. It's off. Hasn't been feeling great. Work's …" he shook his head and exhaled. "I'm tired. Just want to … wind down. Do some prep for the holiday. Have a quiet — calm — night. Okay?"

Her face — body and stance — changed. Relaxed but maybe looked a little sadder too. A little more hurt. And he saw her turn in on whatever she was turning over in her mind again. Could tell.

But she also changed topics as she went back to staring at that blank TV.

"I have no idea what to get him for Christmas," she said .

"Haven't thought much about Christmas," Hank said and he took another drink. He finished it that time.

Because that was a bit of a lie. And that was another topic he didn't much want to get on. Because Christmas was a loaded holiday. Loaded enough in their family. Too much baggage and too many emotions and memories. Traditions. But this year … every year from here on out … he knew there was going to be an added annual question. It was going to hang there. If that holiday would be E's last. And what all that meant.

And that wasn't something Hank felt like thinking much about at all. Not tonight. Or really any other. But, yea, he'd thought about Christmas. He'd thought about how to manage it and if they could just fucking call it off and avoid it. But couldn't and wouldn't.

And that just added to the exhaustion of life. The hurt of being anymore.

"Except for Hot Wheels and putting up Ethan's Christmas lights," Erin put back to him. Clearly had caught some of his bluff. That he hadn't thought about it. And knew she likely had thought about it all on similar terms to him. Terms she didn't want to think about either.

her quip, though, earned a quiet – almost amused — sound.

But then there was quiet. Too quiet.

"He's easy," Hank finally said.

Because really it was that kind of quiet — that long and never-ending quiet — that he was coming to dread most. Quiet he didn't want to hear around the holidays. Not as long as E was around. They'd play all the crappy Christmas music and Christmas specials he wanted.

"The usual," he offered to her. Even though he knew it wasn't what she was saying. It wasn't what the comment was about.

Cars. Dinosaurs. Space. Baseball. Fishing. Geology. Biology. Camping. Mechanics. Circuitry. Engineering. Woodworking. Lego. Video games. Board games. Card games. Books. Puzzles. Clothes. Music. Swimming. Movies. Gift cards. He could list all that off. But she knew that too.

Though, he could highlight for her how much E's interest in geology had been growing. How he had a real talent for mechanics and engineering and it was feeding into a real interest in cars. That her baby brother was turning into a real audiophile too — and he may have to get her and Halstead to return some of his and Cami's vinyl collection for E could play around with it.

But Hank knew that wasn't really what the comment — the question — was about. And even if was, he also knew that on the surface any of that only worked so well anymore. That E's fatigue, neuropathy, sight, tremors. It made it all seem like a difficult balance of getting him something he wanted versus something that might just end up causing him tears and frustration. Trying to find him something that would let him feel 'normal' without highlighting just how different his whole situation was.

And it was a difficult line that Hank was still figuring out how to navigate on his own. There were a whole lot of things E just needed. Could spend a small fortune trying to keep him warm. Or trying to get things to make his life a bit easier and more comfortable.

But he'd decided that that didn't count much as gifts. That was just being a parent. Getting your child the basic necessities for their life to be as easy and as comfortable as possible. It was just that E's basics were a bit more complicated than other kids anymore.

So it was now figuring out what wouldn't ultimately upset the kid. Because even if he wanted it — didn't mean it wouldn't end up causing him frustration and heartache.

But Hank had also seen how his son was handling all this. He'd seen where his boy's interests had gone. Where his talents and skill sets were. And maybe his sight and his tremor slowed him down — but it didn't mean that E hadn't kept charging after his growing interest in mechanics and woodworking … carpentry. That maybe watching his boy use some of those tools scared Hank a bit — but it also made him real fucking proud of him. Because E just didn't give up.

Built a shade platform that summer. Built a die cast launch and race ramp for H's birthday. Were working on rebuilding the engine for the motorcycle. He still screwed around with his circuitry stuff and had started in on the soldering even with his unsteady hands and some of the ruined components and circuit boards it caused. He still kept on it.

And all of it … sometimes … it just made Hank so fucking mad. Because his boy shone. In all of this he shone. He wasn't afraid to bust his ass. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. He didn't think any job was below him. And he had real grit. And some real skill. Just natural talent and know-how in him. And if this fucking disease decided to curb him more — decided to take his boy before he got to show fucking society just how talented he was … it was just a waste. Such a fucking waste.

So he committed himself to bearing witness to it as much as he could. To seeing it. To experiencing it. To coming home. To helping him with tinkering with the engine. And cutting the pieces of lumber he couldn't handle himself. To let him get grease and sawdust all over his mom's kitchen and breeze way. Because — E shone. Because he deserved to leave as much in the world as he could. He deserved to show off all the skills and talent he'd been given.

And that meant that he was easy. He was an easy-going kid. Just was as tough as nails too. And Hank had to hope that it was those two qualities that were going to keep him around until science caught up. Until there was something out there to make this better and easier for him. To give him more time and opportunity to bless the fucking city with the work ethic he had. The dedication he had.

"Erin, all he wants for Christmas is the same as me," Hank said, though. "Same as always. Just everyone together."

She turned to look at him. Again. Finally. Her eyes looked sadder than before. Thinking too fucking much. Making him do the same.

So "And to see the Last Jedi," he deadpanned.

And it got a smirk out of her. "I want that too," she said. "The together part. Not the Star Wars part."

He smiled – as much as could manage. "Better be the Star Wars part," he said. "Sure don't want to be the one having to take him to that one."

She smiled a tiny bit more. "We'll take him," she said.

And he allowed a little nod. A quiet smile too. Because had turned into a tradition. Be three years running now. Erin and Halstead taking him to the latest Jedi crap. But Magoo and traditions. Real and of his own making.

"You cleared to come back this way?" he asked.

She allowed a small nod. "Christmas' a Monday. It shouldn't be a problem."

Hank grunted. "Then there you go. He'll get his Christmas wish."

"Where are we going to do Christmas this year?" she asked quietly after a long beat.

Hank rested his fist against his cheek. "Likely be easiest for him to do it here."

"So we won't be together Christmas morning," Erin put flatly.

"Really up to you," he said. "There's beds. Couch."

"Is Olive going to sleepover?" she asked. "Or just do their own thing in the morning?"

He shrugged. "Haven't talked about it much yet."

Though he hoped Olive would consider spending the night so he could see his grandson in the morning. So E could too. Only got the magic so long. They're only little once. And for so long. You only have them so long, period.

Erin gazed upward again. "He said …," she sighed and looked at him. "That he sleeps in your room a lot."

And Hank shrugged again. "He gets scared," he allowed. "Seems to calm a bit in the master."

It wasn't the room. Hank wasn't entirely convinced it was him who helped him in those moments either. It was E crawling into his mom's side of the bed. It was E's way of being near here.

It was the conversation — one of many that you never dream of having with your child about their own life … and death. Where his little boy — his baby boy — had told him that the only good thing about his mom and older brother being gone was that they'd be waiting for him. They'd be there to catch him on the other end. And that made him glad they'd died. It made him feel less alone. And sometimes when he got scared about it, he wanted to be near his mom. So he crawled into that side of the bed.

And maybe that made Hank's eyes water a bit even thinking about it. Though, he also hadn't faulted E in his assertion. Even if it was a hard reality to hear or accept. But maybe he too was glad — could find some comfort or 'good' — in Camille and Justin being gone. Because if it gave E some comfort while he worked through this — that counted for something. And if there was some sort of afterlife and Cami and J were there to catch E on the end — at least that did give some reason to all of what the family had been through. And maybe Hank could find some sort of comfort in that in his own. As much as a fantasy as that likely was.

But it just hung there for too long. Him in his own thoughts and the glassiness — the blurriness — it'd created. And Erin must've seen it in her own exhausted and voilatile emotions. Because he could see some icing going on in her eyes too. Until they pooled and she looked away.

"We aren't near that right now, Erin," he said. "He's doing good on this treatment. Real good. The disease just … progressed. Will do that. We knew that."

"You sound … too fucking …" she shook her head.

"I'm getting help to accept it," he said and she moved her watering eyes back to him.

There was surprise in them now. Maybe mild shock. And maybe he'd surprised himself too. But the reality was he'd reached a point he needed help. His head wasn't on straight about it after E's last hospital stay. The scare. The progression. The increased disability. Erin and Bunny and her leaving. Him letting go and letting her grow up a bit. The shift in their relationship. The shift at work and on the job. A whole lot of things colliding together and a whole lot of unresolved feelings and emotions from the past.

He had a whole lot of guilt to work through about how some things had worked out for his family. The ones gone and the ones he had left. Guilt he had about the future — and what it'd look like for E.

He needed help figuring out how to manage it all. How to manage his own life and emotions and to still be a parent. How you even parent in a situation like this — with a teenaged kid who had his own emotions and anger and fear in all of it too. He needed to deal with loneliness — the loneliness he had in it all now and his worries about how alone he might end up feeling at the end of all of this. His failure in all of it.

And just fucking anger about how it'd all worked out. How life had worked out. Because this wasn't the fucking plan. And for all the mistakes he'd made in life — the lines he'd crossed, the dumb moves he'd made and the wrongs he'd done — he didn't think he'd done enough to deserve this. And he sure as fuck didn't think his wife or oldest son or his baby boy had either. If the world needed to punish him — it should punish him. Not use his wife and children as pawns in that.

And he just … he didn't fucking understand. He didn't understand after all him and Came had gone through with trying to have family. The miscarriages. The challenges. The losses. For them to get blessed with E — for the world or life or God or the universe — to give them Ethan only to put the kid through all this. It wasn't a childhood. Was it even a life?

It wasn't the kind of life you wanted to give your child. Not as a father. But as a father — you're the one, you're the reason — he has life. You gave him life. And … now it looked like this? And how the fuck do you come to terms with any of that?

He didn't know. And it wasn't something Hank was going to figure out on his own. He'd accepted that. And he'd accepted to be a father — the best he could be in this situation for his little boy that he'd given life such as it was — he needed some help. SO he was getting it. He was trying as best as he could. Would until the wheels came off.

"On your own?" she shook her head. Still shocked apparently.

He nodded. "And, if you haven't found someone in New York – really think you should.

Because this wasn't going away. And he really didn't think Erin had dealt with much of any of it yet. And she needed to. She didn't just need to be working on all the baggage of her childhood and Bunny. She needed to be preparing for what was go come. She needed to figure out some coping mechanisms to deal with the now.

And not just with Ethan. She needed to learn how to apply that to her life and her family and her relationships too. He could see that staring at him in the bullpen each day. Only Halstead only looked in him in the eye so much either. So it was more that he saw the guy staring dead-eyed into space. And Erin needed to learn how to cope with that too. As a woman and spouse and friend. How to help him and be there for him. And how to protect herself too.

Because coping with all that — was only going to get harder. Dealing with E … was just going to add to the post-traumatic stress they'd all gotten walloped with. Would set them all up for triggers — old and new. Happened when you were under that kind of stress and exhaustion and emotional burden and worry. Especially when you weren't dealing with it and didn't know how to deal with it.

She needed to start learning how to cope better. In new ways. Other ways. Not to batten it all down. Not like he'd done. For too long.

Get the help now. Didn't need to be dealing with messy fall-out as E progressed. It was going to be messy enough. Her whole life — and Halstead's life — didn't need to spin out because of it.

"I'm okay," she said.

Hank just smacked at that. Because she wasn't. Could see it painted all over her. Could see it in the way she was holding herself. And the way she was holding onto that drink and not drinking it. And all the possibilities he was reading into that.

"Is Ethan okay?" she asked.

And that was one question about her brother Hank was willing to answer.

"Erin, your brother impresses me on a near daily basis with how he deals with all this," he nodded at her. "Teaching me … a lot."

She squinted at him. "What's that mean?"

He sighed and sunk back into the couch. And that was one he wasn't so willing to answer.

Because it wasn't something she was in a position to hear. Not about him as a man or the guy who raised her. Not when she wasn't yet a parent. Because it was the kind of things that you didn't want to know about life or yourself — didn't want to have to think about too much — until you had kids. And even then they weren't the kind of things you wanted to think about.

Because it was personal and hard. And not the kind of stuff you told your kids. Because they came to their own conclusions as they aged that you were fallible. You didn't need to make yourself feeble too.

But the reality was it all just went back to what he was working through in his own talk with his own shrink. That he could interact with all this in a lot of ways. Could be mad at the universe or life or God. That he could argue that life was unfair and act like that was unfair in itself. He could go crawling down his own rabbit holes — more than he was. More than he did or had to to try to keep himself from spinning out. The things he clung too to convince himself of meaning and purpose — to all of this. And to life — his own life — itself.

But the reality was that he'd rather he just dealt with the situation at hand. He would rather she'd learn how to too. and that meant focusing on what you could do in the moment. And learning from the moment.

And Ethan was teaching him how to be a parent in a whole different way than he'd had to be a parent to her or Justin. That in a lot of ways, he was learning too that E was the kid he needed and deserved right then. And, in a whole lot of other ways, he was happy — real glad — he was E's father. Because he got to witness this boy grow into a man. To fight and live. And because he didn't want to think about E going through this with anyone else. He wanted to be the one there for his boy. He believed in his ability to be there for him through this. That as parents — as fathers — you did what you needed to do for your kids. You did things for them that you wouldn't do for anyone else. You pulled out all stops and made whatever sacrifices. But for Magoo — he was more than willing and more than happy to do that to be part of this journey with him too. Because as much as it fucking hurt — he was learning and experiencing and growing too. And not all in bad ways.

"Learning a whole lot about myself," he did provide her with, though. "Got a fourteen year old teaching me a whole lot about strength and courage and perseverance. And being a man."

And she sat there with that. With that and that untouched drink. That with each passing minute that she let the ice melt and water down the good stuff, he read into more and more. And read into her body language and posture and face and her words — and even her presence there — more and more. As he weighed the possibilities. And processed the good, bad and ugly of each one. Without counting chickens before they hatched. Without getting too far ahead of himself in thoughts or worries that weren't worth getting his panties in a knot about.

Because he "Would prefer to keep my focus there," he told her. "On E. On getting through. Learning. And that mean I'd also really prefer not to do this tonight."

And her gaze just sat on him. Until she put her glass down. Leaving it untouched. And he stared at it — let her see him stare at it — until he looked back at her.

"I really want us to … talk," Erin said. "This weekend, Hank."

He nodded. "That's fine. But not tonight, Kiddo."

"In private," she said. "Not with Eth or Olive or Jay."

He weighed that too. But allowed her a pucker and nodded again. "We'll carve out a spot."

She sat with that. And sat. Until she sighed.

"Then what's the plan?" she said. "For the rest of the weekend? For tomorrow?"

Hank shrugged. "Tomorrow – cook, eat."

She snorted. "Besides that."

Hank let out another slow exhale. "Don't know. See how he's doing. Wants to watch Planes, Trains.

"And Automobiles?" she grinned a shook her head. That quiet little scuffed laugh of hers barely slipping out.

Made Hank smile too. A bit. But he stared at the floor. E was an old soul. He should've been born about twenty or thirty years earlier than he was. That maybe he was supposed to be. And he'd just arrived late. Took a while for everything to come together the way it was supposed to. But by then it was so late that their time together was getting cut too short.

"Thinks he wants to start in on the Christmas movies on Friday," Hank added.

Erin made another little noise at that and shook her head. Hank heard her on that one. Agreed. Could really wait to start in on the Christmas movies and music and decorations until about a week or two before the big day. But that wasn't the way it was going to be. And thought maybe he was okay with that too. If it was what E wanted or needed. If it brought him some calm and some strength in all of this in the coming weeks.

So they'd watch the movies. They'd see how he was doing. That maybe if he was decent that weekend they would venture out of the house a bit. Maybe take him to see a real flick. Or do a trip to Field or RIC or the pool or the lakeshore to cast a line or two. Their saving graces in keeping their sanity through all of this. Their little escapes. And the little things — you clung to them. The little moments counted for a lot.

Erin gave a little nod. "Is Olive's aunt coming over tomorrow?"

"Think so, yeah," he said. "Just for dinner. And until she takes the hint. Leaves."

"So four hours at least," Erin said.

He allowed her a thin smile. A little hum. About right.

"Will coming?" he asked.

"Last I heard he's working," she said.

He nodded. "Can stop by after, if he wants. Grab a plate."

"Do you need us to bring anything?" she asked. "Did you talk to Jay about it?"

Hank just grunted. Him and Halstead only talked so much about much of anything these days. And it was too bad. But it was fucking complicated. Personal versus professional. Public versus private. Boss versus father-in-law-to-be. It that ever did happen. But he tried to keep his tongue bit on that topic with the two of them.

But still hard. Could see jay was struggling with a lot too. Maybe more than Erin. Or just as much but just a different batch of shit. Them being a part — and him not getting the help he needed — wasn't doing him any good either. Pretty fucking clear there was a whole host of things that Jay hadn't come to terms with personally or professionally with yet. Things he hadn't let go of.

And it was just as fucking clear it was affecting both his relationship and his work. Trying to stay out of the relationship thing. But there was only so much more he could turn a blind-eye to some of the spin-out that was going on at work.

"Think you should worry more about talking to him some than you should about whipping up a side dish."

And she stared at him hard at his word choice. She opened her mouth. Could tell her mind was still trying to process.

But it was Hank who cut her off that time. "Jay's in a rough spot, Erin," he said firmly. "Has been for a bit. But case last week …" he shook his head.

And she just sat there. Knew she likely knew. Figured that might be part of the reason she had made the drive home when they'd backed out. Figured it might be part of the reason she was sitting there and not at her own place.

Because he could see that Halstead was working at finding all the wrong ways to cope. Could see it in how he was interacting with everyone else in the bullpen. Could see it in how he was interacting with E and his increasing retreat from the personal life and relationships they'd set up outside of work — that they'd attempted to keep some semblance of for Ethan's sake — even if it was fucking complicated and felt a bit too much like playing house for Hank's liking. Had seen in in the number of times he'd caught him sleeping in the break room. And how often it was he came into work looking like he'd been up all night. Red rimmed eyes that suggested tears, fatigue and too much time with a bottle.

Trying to numb his emotions but numbing his reaction time too. And there'd only be so long before that ended up biting him in the ass on the job. And with the way things were on the job anymore, couldn't let it reach that point.

But Halstead wouldn't say shit to him. Not as his boss. Not as a friend. Or a man. Or the would-be father-in-law. Despite Hank pointing out that the couch he was siting on right then was a hell of a lot more comfortable and sanitary than the one in the bullpen. That he had the game on and was happy to sit and stare at it without talking too. More than happy.

Because sometimes it was just a matter of having another person sitting next of you to keep you out of trouble. And wasn't too much how much Jay had that right now — if at all. And if you were alone — sometimes you had a way of finding trouble. Filling time and space and holes in the wrong ways to try to distract yourself from the realities. To try to make you feel less lonely.

Hank knew. And knew even though he had a house with a sleeping kid upstairs and a farting dog always underfoot — that loneliness and restlessly could still find you. Still went you looking for ways to distract yourself and numb yourself.

"What … what happened?" she asked. But she was already shaking her head and Hank knew she was trying to form some kind of defence for him. She didn't need to. He understood. But he was just getting tired of watching it all play out too. Rubbernecking a train wreck. Needed to stop.

"Think we've all got a lot to come to grips with right now," Hank interrupted her efforts to form coherent thoughts. "And, tonight – maybe all weekend – might be better putting some of those efforts there. On him. On you. Because, Erin, I'm not sure you're ready to be back to this," he said and waved his hand at the ceiling. "And, not sure how much longer that guy of yours can deal with being the one left behind. Or how much longer I can turn a blind-eye to it. As his boss or the would-be father-in-law."

Erin glared slightly. "I'll talk to him."

Hank nodded and then hulled himself up. He picked up his glass and then retrieved hers – giving her a look. A direct one — that she again skirted from.

"Maybe he needs a change of scenery too," he said. "No shame in that either. Fresh start. New roots. Not a bad thing."

"That's not the plan," she said.

He gave a little grunt and moved with the glasses toward the kitchen. "Life's what happens while you're busy making other plans, Kiddo."

No arguing from her with that. And maybe that said a lot too. But even the unplanned — could be thankful for. She might not be quite ready to think about that one, though. And likely even farther way from accepting it. But had to hope she'd get there too.

 **AUTHOR NOTE: The chapter before this was posted today too — so less than 24 hours ago. You may want to check to make sure you didn't miss it.**

 **The next chapter will be a continuation and wrap of this scene. It will be from Hank's POV. You will then get a chapter of Erin/Jay — likely from Jay's POV.**

 **Your readership, feedback, comments and reviews are appreciated.**


	6. Bumpy Road

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Jay felt her smile into the kiss. Made him smile too. He took it as a good sign. A sign she was into it. Because she was. He could tell.

So he moved his hands. He slipped his fingers into the waist of the fucking pant-suit nation outfit that he'd never really get used to seeing her in. The one he wasn't too sure he liked seeing her in. Because even though it had its own sexy quality to it. Even though she could more than pull it off. It also just wasn't her. And in a lot of other ways it was just a reminder of … how fucking different things were. Now. How fucked up they were. And just how much she wasn't her. And he wasn't him. And they just weren't them. Least not the way they had been. Before.

But more than that – he just didn't know why the fuck that she still had that outfit on – now. That she was home. In Chicago. Because now – here – it just really didn't fit. At all.

But even though the outfit was all wrong – even though she was still wearing it – she still let him slip his fingers down the front of it. Into the waist. To work toward his objective. She did for a split second at least.

She made a quiet sound against his mouth. The one that was so fucking sexy. The one that he didn't think she even realized she made have the time. Or all the time. The one that turned him on even more. The one that he thought for sure meant she was about to let them take it a bit farther.

But then she broke it off. Completely. Not just slow it down. Not just make him work for it a bit more. She just stopped.

She backed a way. She put her arm on the back of the couch. She put her hand in her hair the way he liked. That would be sexy – if she just hadn't completely just stopped their sexy time. And she looked at him. A sight he liked. Usually. But that night – right now - he didn't like that look she was giving him. At all.

"You're drunk," she stated flatly.

His hand stayed put. For the moment. "That hasn't ever stopped us before."

That got a worse look. It shifted from the sexy one to the one he really didn't like. But at least it sort of looked like she considered it for a moment. But that was likely the problem. Because she'd weighed it and made her executive decision on the truthfulness of the statement.

"You aren't that great in bed when you're drunk, Jay," she put to him and reached for his wrist. Extracting him from his destination.

"I'm not that drunk," he argued. "Buzzed."

That just got a condescending look. One with her eyes going to the empties that he and Will had piled next to the garage door.

He really should've fucking just taken them out so she couldn't have gauged how many there actually were. There weren't that many. She was making a bigger deal of this than she needed too. Especially with the way she was arching her eyebrow about those bottles.

"I've been waiting all week to do this for you." It was an attempt at a move. A bad one. Made worse when he tried stroking his hand down her thigh. Another rookie move. She did good at making him feel like an incompetent rookie sometimes. And her looking at his hand sitting there – how completely unimpressed she was – did it again. So he backed off. Her eyes setting on his when he did.

"When you're drunk – it isn't about me. Or us, Jay," she put to him. "It's all you. And not the parts of you that I like seeing or being around. Especially in that position."

"Erin, c'mon," he knew he nearly whined at her. He could tell how pathetic it sounded when it came out of his mouth. But apparently he was drunk enough that he couldn't reel in the level of pathetic that rang even in his own ears. "Once a month is killing me."

The eyebrow arched again. "Pretty sure we more than make up for lost time in the weekend or two we get a month."

"Erin …," he sighed and gazed at her. He knew there was still a layer of pathetic to it. But if she'd made him feel like she saw him as a bit of a dog in the past, he was almost hoping the pathetic puppy dog look might work that night. As undignified as it was. Because he needed it. He needed the physical aspect of it. Badly. In so many ways. But he also … he just needed to be close to her. He just needed to forget for a bit. And to focus on something else for a bit. To release some tension. And to get some comfort.

"For someone who's been waiting for this all week, it really wasn't the impression I got when I came in the door," she kept the eyebrow raised at him.

And Jay sighed. Because he knew she'd shut it down then. Completely. Because he was at about three strikes there. He thought. Though, these days he wasn't sure he was even given three strikes.

Though, maybe when their visits were so short the batting average really needed some improvement. But you'd think she could get him a bit more leeway too.

"Erin …," he sighed again and tried to figure out some decent argument. Or explanation. His mind wasn't working the way he'd like. At all.

"You basically ignored me when I came in the door, Jay," she said with a bit more of an edge.

"Will was over," he tried. Like that was any kind of explanation for him being … whatever he'd been when she'd come in. She was right. He was likely an ass. But he'd just been in distraction mode. He hadn't wanted – hadn't been able – to disengage. "He brought the game. It's his. It's not mine."

She made a sound. One that sounded way to fucking much like Hank. At least that was a slight turn off since apparently they weren't going to be doing much that night. Or at least in that moment.

"And he brought the beer."

And that got that sound again.

"Nat's back. From her sabbatical."

"Sabbatical …," she mouthed.

And it was his turn to arch his eyebrow. Because they both knew that that kind of 'sabbatical' that Natalie would take wouldn't be the catch-all phrase that they'd used for her or him in the past. It was an actual sabbatical. Even if it was … whatever it was. An answer – or terminology – that was pretty much wrapped up in Will's ramblings right now.

"He needed to talk," Jay said to her.

And that got an arched eyebrow from her too. "We need to talk," she put more directly.

He made his own sound and slumped into the couch more. "Erin, I'm fine. Hailey was completely off base – just totally out of line – to call you."

He as still so fucking … pissed … she'd called. In so many levels. He just felt … betrayed. He just felt like she kept trying to be his fucking babysitter. Not his partner. And as his partner – he just couldn't decide how he felt about her. As a cop. Or maybe as a person. Or a bit of both. This fucking holier-than-thou attitude she had. And when you're on that kind of high horse – in Chicago, in CPD, in Intelligence, in Voight's unit – Jay wasn't sure he could trust you. Even though maybe he'd been like that before. But it also just didn't work. It didn't make you the kind of cop you needed to be. To do the jobs they did. To be the kind of partner you needed on that job. To have your back in the right way.

She hadn't had his back. Not if she fucking picked up the phone and called Erin. Some sort of fucking gossip. Get into his business. His personal fucking business.

"Not exactly," Erin said, though. And she looked at him more directly. "I'm glad she called."

"I'm fine," he pressed back.

Because he was. He was fine. As fine as he could be in all this. Right now. The whole fucking mess of all of it. Of work. And life. And family. And their relationship. And Chicago. And just all of it. He was functioning. He punched in every day. He was paying the bills. He was keeping the house. He was doing the best he could. He was fine.

That's all there was to it. They didn't need to talk about it. Not now. Not on a fucking long weekend when they'd have to spend time around her family. Not on a weekend when it might be the last weekend they'd get together before Christmas. And how they wouldn't get alone time that weekend either. That it would just all be … whatever it fucking was.

And these days he didn't know what any of it all fucking was. A mess. It was almost easier when she'd been with the Feds. When she'd been undercover. Because then … he could just be mad at her. He could just work at accepting reality. Instead now they were stuck in some weird and lonely limbo. Where he didn't know how any of it was going to work out. Or when. Or how much longer they should keep trying. But how fucking scared he was to stop trying. Even though they were living so fucking different lives that were so far away from each other and what they'd had and what they'd been. And who they were. And why they were. And what they were without each other.

And that scared him too. Because he saw who – what – he was becoming with each passing week … month … of her being gone. And the uncertainty on if – when … ever – she'd come back.

And who or what they could be when she got back. Because she wasn't her. And he wasn't him. And he didn't know who or what they'd be by the time she did get back to the city.

And he hated that.

Just like he hated the way her eyes stayed stuck on him now. Because even though he wasn't him anymore – and she wasn't her – she could still see the person he'd made himself become in the past. She could read it. And see it and remember it. And that made it harder. Because it felt like a more distant memory and that scared him too. It made him sad and angry too.

"That's not Hank's read," she put simply.

Jay bristled more. And glared at the wall. "What'd he say?" he grumbled.

Because he thought that likely pissed him off even more than Hailey sticking her nose into his business. Like her badgering him wasn't enough. She had to fucking go and call Erin? That was just … it wasn't a line you crossed. And now Voight?

He thought they had a personal-professional understanding. A fucking policy. But apparently that only existed in terms of Erin. He was allowed to go and say shit to Erin too. He thought he had the right. And Jay didn't buy that. There'd been lots he hadn't said to Erin about shit going on with Voight – at work or at home – because he knew it'd just upset her. That it'd just make shit harder and worse. And that just didn't make sense right now. It just didn't seem worth it. So he'd kept his mouth shut unless he needed to open it.

But apparently Voight hadn't given him the same fucking courtesy. Big fucking surprise. He shouldn't be surprised. But he was. Because there was personal and there was professional. And he thought they'd gotten that sorted. That they'd had an agreement and an understanding. As men. And apparently they hadn't.

Erin just shrugged, though. "He just said my time and energy would be better spent here this weekend than over there stressing about Eth," she said but her hand snaked up and touched his cheek.

And he took a slow breathe. Because maybe Voight hadn't betrayed the silent pact they had in quite the way he thought. Maybe he'd have to say thanks with a glass at Molly's or something. If Erin actually listened. Because … he needed … he wanted … some actual time with her that weekend. He didn't want it to just be all over at Hank's house. He didn't want the whole trip – the visit – to be Erin doing the self-imposed guilt trip about Eth. For her to get herself upset. And Eth. And Hank. And him.

Jay just … he wanted … to go upstairs. To listen to some music. To share another bottle together. To make out. To go up another level. To get to sleep next to her. Or to try to sleep next to her. To maybe just get some fucking sleep. Knowing she was next to him and in trying to remember who he was and what her being there made him and what he needed to keep holding out for in the waiting game of purgatory they were in. To have breakfast. And coffee. And just fucking quiet day and food and drinks and tv and … the mundane crap of boredom that they were in their personal life and off-roster time. That they had been.

"And he told me to get you to do something about 'the gerbil' growing out of your face."

Jay allowed a thin smile at that. Maybe more because she was touching him. Or maybe partially because now he was privy to the fact the facial hair was pissing off Voight.

"Thought you liked it," he said.

She allowed a little smile and touched it a bit more before letting her hand fall away. And she shrugged. There wasn't a yes or a no. And that made him wonder if she didn't. It made him worry that she didn't. Or that it said too much about … the person he was now. And he realized that he should've shaved. He should've thought of that. He should've hidden what the past couple weeks had looked like. Had felt like. To try to … mask it a bit.

"Ethan said you hadn't been over this week either," was added, though. And he sighed and gazed at the wall. Because he knew that it was just an added indication that she wouldn't likely be listening to Voight's suggestion that she spend more time at home rather than over in his home. But Jay knew that. That trips to Chicago weren't just about him or them. It was about family. Her family. Ethan.

"Well, work," he provided. And it was true. Depending on how you read it. And he watched her read it. He should've known she would. She could.

"And work after a case that got to you," she said.

He moved his eyes to her. "Erin, it's awkward going over there. And it's depressing."

That got a flicker in her eyes and she looked a way a bit. He shouldn't have said it. But it was true. And maybe he didn't feel like pussy-footing around the truth. Not with alcohol in him. Not with her only home a few days. Not when he was the one who had to be her sentry there. A role he'd never asked for or really wanted.

"I know …" she allowed.

But he hadn't meant to hurt her. So he reached and touched her hand. He rubbed his thumb against the top of her hand.

"You can't check out on him, Jay," she said quietly. "You mean too much to him. I know … your regrets about your mo—"

"I know," he interrupted.

Because he didn't want to hear it. He couldn't. Not that night. And he couldn't wade into the conversation again about her own regrets either. And how they were growing. And how her trips home just made them grow more. Because she wasn't there. To bare witness to this. To share the time – to be there – while the time was there. And it was going to be time she'd never get back. And he knew how that felt. All of it. The various levels. And the regrets. And how they stayed with you. The questions and the what-ifs. And he didn't want to think about them. And he didn't want her to dwell on them. Because the options were complicated and hard and didn't make a lot of sense either.

"How was it tonight?" he tried. Even though he should've come up with something better. To distract her. But his brain wasn't firing the way he wanted. He was number than he thought. But not as numb as he'd like to be.

"Depressing," she said and gave him a sad little smile. One that was more of a frown. But she tried. Sort of. You couldn't really smile in these kinds of situations. Even when you tried.

"Eth …?" Another stupid question. A stupid comment.

She shrugged. "Yea," she allowed.

"He like the book?" he tried. Because that was a better distraction. Maybe.

She allowed a thin smile. "Yea …," she said and attempted another smile for him. "He was talking about the trip. Harry Potter land. About them building the Ministry of Magic area now. Wanting to go back."

"Maybe some day," Jay offered. But it got a frown that barely presented as a smile. Because they both knew there might not be a someday. Not now.

"Some day," she allowed. But shook her head hard. "Hank. He looks exhausted."

"Yea …," Jay agreed.

"He … his clothes … smelled like booze and cigarettes."

Jay just looked at her.

"How long as that been going on?" she asked a little more directly. Or a lot more.

And now he felt like he was the one being asked to betray trust. To break the unspoken agreement that they talked around.

"I don't really know …," he offered. There was truth to it.

She made a little noise and stared at the wall.

"Is he smoking around Ethan?" she asked quietly.

"I really don't know, Erin," Jay said. "It's different – awkward – to spend much time over there when you aren't home."

She made a noise and shifted her eyes firmly to his. "Is he smoking at work?"

Jay sighed and sat back in the couch. "Maybe a bit," he said.

She ran her hand through her hair. He could see her mind going places. He knew some of them. He could speculate.

"The work situation and the home situation has him under a lot of stress right now," he provided flatly. Because it wasn't his place to provide defence or explanation for Voight. And he didn't really want to. That wasn't a role he'd ever asked for. He wasn't his babysitter for Erin either.

"He seems … broken," she said.

"Maybe a little," Jay acknowledged.

"But so do you," she said.

"I'm okay, Erin," he tried and he tried to deflect again. "You get to talk to him about that thing?"

She shook her head. "He wasn't in the right headspace," she said and shrugged. "Maybe I wasn't either. It might not be the best weekend for it."

Jay nodded.

And she moved her hand to find his on the back of the couch and caressed at it. So he did the same.

"I'm worried about you," she said.

"Erin …" he sighed.

She looked at him more directly. "It's more than a rough patch, Jay," she said. "You're triggering. And you aren't talking to anyone. You aren't telling me what's going on. Or what's going on with you. You're just trying to deal with it – by not dealing with it – alone."

"I'm fine," Jay said more firmly.

"You're falling into old habits," she said and nodded at the paused game on the screen and the empties again.

"Not exactly," he said. And there was truth to that too.

But she sighed again and slumped more into the couch examining him.

"Did you know that Benson and Cassidy had a relationship back in their early thirties too?" Erin put to him after an examination that had gone on more than he was comfortable with.

He shrugged at her. Because he didn't really give a shit. "Okay …," he allowed.

She allowed a face, though. "Something got said about it being a relationship with a twelve year break," she said.

He examined her at that. Carefully. "Are you saying that's your ideal situation?"

She made an unimpressed noise and looked at him more directly. Sternly. "More like the more glimpses I get into their relationship, the more I don't want that to be us. But how I could see it easily becoming us."

Jay made a listening sound. Because he didn't really know what to say to that. Or how to absorb or process it. Not right now.

"Cassidy made some comment about our extended engagement. It was just …," she shook her head. "Some next of kin, notification paperwork I handed it. It was stupid. But said something along the lines of as long as one of you is on the job, any marriage is just an affair."

"That's kind of a fucked up way to look at it and likely explains a lot about why they aren't married," Jay said.

She allowed a little smile. "But he also likely has a point," Erin said.

"And you still want to come back to the job," Jay put flatly.

She shrugged. "I want to come back to Chicago," she said. "I miss the action. I miss being first in the door. I miss the street. But … I see the value of what I'm doing. It's important. I'm good at it. I just … wish I didn't feel like as much of a desk jockey."

"Still better than mall cop," Jay offered.

"I won't argue that. But it's not me still having an affair with the job. And what it does to us as people, Jay. And to the people around us."

"Erin, I'm fine," he said again.

"It's not just the job I miss, Jay," she said. "I miss you. I worry about you."

He sighed heavily at her and stared at the ceiling – trying to figure out a way to counter that.

"SWAT," she said. It felt suddenly. "Maybe it'd be … better. With where you are now. What you've got going on."

He sighed again. "Erin, I screwed that up, okay? I didn't move fast enough. There's not going to be any bumps this year. Not with all the oversights in CPD."

"Jay, you could move anywhere on merit."

"If there was an open spot," he pressed back at her with some anger. "And if I wanted to." She gave him a look. "Voight's grooming me, okay. I can tell. The cases. The decisions. The responsibilities. And, if things go sideways, I might …"

"You might end up with his job," she put flatly.

"I was thinking more Antonio's," he said.

She looked at him harder. And he knew there was a whole other conversation there. One that maybe he really was too drunk to have that night. And maybe one he really wasn't too interested in having that weekend. At all.

But she let it drop. Sort of. "I miss this house," she said and looked around her. "I miss getting to be a part of making this our home. I miss Ethan. And getting to see Henry grow. Hank. The city."

"So … what are you saying here?" he said. And part of him felt hopeful. Because he wanted her back. Needed her back. But he also knew that maybe that wasn't best. Not right now. Not yet. That the temporary happiness of it would just lead to other … fucked up mess. Because Erin couldn't not have a job or be a mall cop or just be Eth's caretaker and full-time worrier.

"That I want you to know that …," she gazed at him and let out a slow breath. "That I worry about you. That I see you. For you, Jay. I know you have flaws. That you fuck up. But, you're enough. For me. You're more than enough of a man. A cop. A solider. That you're my best friend. That I love. I care about you. That I'm here for you. Even when it's 800 miles away. I don't want you go fall into a hole. And I want to help pull you out of it, if you are down one."

He shrugged at her. "Erin, it's fine. I'm fine. You know … how it is. I miss you. I'm lonely. Work's a distraction. Rough case. Just … takes some time to rebound sometimes. That's all."

"I can tell you haven't been sleeping," she said. "Your eyes …"

"Okay," he allowed and held up his hands in a mild defence. "My eyes – maybe I had a few more than I should've tonight. But—"

"I wish you hadn't been drinking tonight," she said to him more directly. "Because I had things I wanted to talk to you about. You, Jay. Not … this," she gestured at him.

"Erin—" he warned.

But she kept his eyes. Hard. So hard it stopped him in his tracks to once again tell her the made-up truth that he was fine. Which really depended on the definition of fine. And the definition of drunk. And the definition of PTSD. And the definition of a whole lot of fucking things. That she wasn't interested in hearing or arguing with him about that night. It was clear.

"I'm pregnant."

It hung there. It washed over him. And it had a sobering effect. But he also knew – immediately in his beer numbed mind – that he wished he hadn't been drinking either.

"Wh …"

And he didn't even know what he was trying to ask. What he should say. Because he knew there was a whole lot of things he shouldn't say. That he couldn't say. That he wouldn't say. But … he was too numb. And he couldn't figure out how to react or how he was supposed to feel.

"Once a month marathons," she said. "Making up for lost time. Apparently – well timed."

He sat back in the couch and stared at her. As he tried to process more. He tried to figure out the possibilities. He tried to remember any slip-ups or screw-ups or oversights in their haste or urgency or frequency. He tried to figure out the timing – or lack there of. He tried to remember when they'd talked about her stopping the pill because they were seeing each other so infrequently but she wanted to make sure things were back in sync and normal cycle or routine for when she did get back to Chicago so that they could start trying when they were ready – if they were ready – without the waiting period. And maybe that had seemed like a decent-ish idea at the time and not a big deal. Because condoms. And they were only seeing each other every three or four or five weeks. But … he … they … they'd fucked up.

"How long have you known?" he managed.

"About two weeks," she said and stared at him. "You were undercover and …"

He sunk back more. And he wished there was still some of the beer left. Though, he thought maybe he'd do better to go upstairs and get something harder.

"You've been avoiding having anything resembling a real conversation since," she said.

He rubbed his handed against his forehead. Pushing upwards to his pressed up facsimiles of non-bangs. Cowlick.

"How … far … are you?"

Erin let out a little breath. "I don't know for sure. Things are … were … still … working at getting back into a regular cycle."

"But you're … sure?" he asked.

"It's at least pushing two months now, Jay. It might be a bit more."

He just stared at her. He knew that wasn't the response or the reaction he was supposed to have. It didn't feel right. Not in that moment. But he couldn't think of any other reaction that would feel quite right then either.

"I can't tell what you're thinking," she said.

He shook his head. "That … the … timing …"

"I know," she acknowledged. "But … now, Jay … there's never going to be good timing. Ethan … if this treatment has stopped the progression. If he doesn't have another exacerbation. If he doesn't get pneumonia."

"That's a lot of ifs," Jay said quietly.

"Jay … it could be … five, ten, fifteen years. And … whatever if it is … a year, five, ten … I'm going to mourn. I don't want to wait until …" And she trailed off. Because it wasn't just something you put into words. "I won't want be … having a child in my forties."

"You want to have a child now?" he pressed at her.

"I …," she sighed and looked pleadingly at him. "It's not a child. It's our child. And … there's a part of me that … I want Ethan to have the opportunity to … be an uncle again. For us to see that. For … my … our … child to know him. I want … I'm worried about Hank … on the other end of … what's coming. And … I want … to make sure he has reasons not to go off the deep-end, Jay. I want reasons for us to keep it together. To stay together. To get through now and what's coming."

"When …" he shook his head. "You're in New York."

"I'm more concerned about … gauging where we are, Jay. I need us to have conversations about that. To be real and honest with each other. To make some decisions. So I can make my decision."

"Like an abortion?" he said. He wasn't sure it was a question. It felt like it shouldn't be. That it should be a statement. Just the reality. But … that bothered him. It hurt. In a harsh and expected way. That was more sobering.

She made a sound. "I … I need to have a realistic perspective on if you can pull yourself out of this," she said and gestured around the room – the video game, the TV, the beer. "If you … are still interested in … a relationship or a family, Jay. So I know … if I keep this baby, if I'm doing it on my own or not."

"You wouldn't do it on your own," he said. Too fast. But he knew that much. He didn't need to think about that.

"Jay," she put to him firmly. And maybe too slowly. Like maybe he had said something it a bit of a drunk stupor. "I'm not doing this as some cliché of friends who just happen to have a child together. Who love each other and care about each other – but you aren't a couple. I don't want to just be raising a child together and not be anything more. And I'm not doing this as me just collecting some sort of paternity check either. That … won't work for me. I know that already. Now."

"I …," and he still couldn't figure out what to say. "You're in New York."

Her hand came back across the couch and found his. "I know," she said. "And … that scares me. Because … Jay … I wanted to, I know we needed to work on us as a couple. On our relationship. I know when I got back … we were going to need time to get to know each other again. And now … if we … do this. It's not about us as a couple. It's jumping right to us being a family. Being parents. And … I don't know if that's something you want anymore. Or are capable of right now."

And he sunk against the cushions. Because he knew that right then – that immediate now – she was right. He wasn't capable of it. At all. And he didn't know who they were right then. Not himself. And he didn't like himself much. Or who he was regressing to. And he didn't know who they were as a couple. Or if they could really be called that right now. Or if they could make this work. And that made him ache.

"If … I keep the baby," she offered quietly, "I likely wouldn't be able to come back until closer to when I was due. And …" she shook her head. "I haven't worked out the … job … income … logistics. And I wanted us to have … a conversation – to be honest – first anyway."

"I …," he started but shook his head. Because he didn't know what to say. Or do. Or think. "You're right. I shouldn't have been drinking tonight." He really wished he hadn't been. He really wished he wasn't feeling numb. He really wished he felt something. That he knew what to say or think or do in this moment. Through this mess. That shouldn't be a mess.

Through this situation that six, seven, eight months ago he'd been arguing with her as it being something he wanted. That he would've been happy about. That he would've felt so fucking differently about. That it was something to work toward. To build. That a husband, a father, a parent. That all that felt like something in reach. As the logical step. As what made the most sense. For them as a couple and a family. And now … he didn't know.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted.

"I'd like you to say that you'll put in for some furlough," she said. "Or medical leave. That you'll come to the dating ultrasound next week. That we can have some real conversations – outside of all this. Away from it. With some privacy and alone time."

And he gazed at her. He tried to say yes. But instead he found himself slowly leaning forward. Glancing at her eyes for some brief permission before he planted his mouth on hers.

She let him. She let him kiss her. She let him slowly thread the blazer off her arms and unbutton her blouse. She let him feel her breasts through her bra. And him weigh them carefully. The little sound she made that alerted him to them being maybe a little tender. Let him measure his casual awareness that maybe they felt just a bit fuller.

She let herself reach to pull his tshirt off too. To touch his face and his beard he should've shaved too. And to reach for the button on his fly. And he did the same. Though he broke the kiss. He stopped. He gazed at her abdomen. Her pelvis. Her mound as he unzipped her and drew down her panties. His hand spreading there and upward. Trying to feel any changes yet. To see if there was any difference to how he remembered her body from just three and a half weeks ago. If there was a bump. And she reached and moved his hand slightly. Directing it to where he should be feeling. If there was anything to feel. But when she directed his hand, he could feel the slightest rise. The bump. He could see it just slightly in the dim light resting under his hand. And he stared there too. While she settled back onto the couch and pulled him back toward her lips and pushed his pants down his thighs too.

As they lay there next to each other. Kissing. And touching. Until she pressed close enough to him that they joined. And then stared at each other. They stopped and they stared. Not moving. And Jay almost wished they could just stay like that. Because it felt right. Not moving in that moment.

But then they did. She pressed against him more. And he pressed into her fully. And she lifted her leg. Draping it over his more. Opening herself up to him more. And they moved together. They found a sync. A rhythm. Slowly. As they kissed and stared and touched at each other's cheeks.

And it felt right. But he almost felt so scared he was scared he might cry too. So instead he rested his forehead against hers. And she let him do that too. Her fingers in his stubble and tugging at his ear. And her breath in small, hot, fresh pants against his face. Finding his mouth occasional. Breathing some life into him – against him. And he needed that.

"I love you …" he whispered somewhere in it. Even though something about it sounded broken and pathetic too.

But she answered. Around him and against him and holding him and grabbing at him.

"I'm crazy in love with you too."

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Didn't write exactly how I wanted. Cheesier than I wanted at the end. But done.**

 **Had planned a couple more chapters in this story. Might still do them. But might also jump ahead a month or so until around Christmas/New Year/Hank's birthday instead.**

 **Your reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	7. Ideals

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin stalled as she entered the back door of Hank's house. She just stopped and stared. The bathroom was done. Really done. By the looks of it. Camille's little sun porch was officially gone.

The wicker chair and the ugly wicker planters and all the plants and the even uglier yellow curtains in what had really been little more than an oversized closet and storage space in the breezeway when the family charged through the back door. But still a space she'd claimed as her own. A quiet reprise she'd sit in to read. To drink her morning coffee. To escape her and Justin's antics in the front room when they were teenagers. To monitor Ethan out in the back lot and the sandbox when he insisted on playing his make-believe dinosaur hunts for hours on end as a little boy – no matter the weather. Rain or shine … or snow. A place where she could at least get some sun even in the winter. A small spot that was hers – even if it held little more than that chair, a magazine rack, yet another book shelf and the planter with the greenery. It was all gone now. And it gave Erin stop.

Hank hadn't mentioned. Not to that extent. She knew he was going to do it. Or he'd said he was going to. He'd been talking about it for the better part of a year. Maybe closer to two. He'd been talking about it more since the summer.

She'd knew he'd started picking at it while he was on his leave to care for Ethan. After his extended hospital stay. The progression. The new medication and treatment. The greater instability and limited vision.

She knew that Hank had gone out and bought a toilet and a sink and a cabinet. That he'd drawn up plans. That he'd loitered in that area and shuffled some of Camille's things around while he did the measurements. But when she'd been home in October – the beginning of October, Justin's birthday – he hadn't started it. And he was back at work.

And she knew that meant he'd be back into his 'when I find time' mode. The one that would piss Camille off when it came to fix-it jobs around the house – to the point that she was quite good at wielding a hammer herself rather than waiting on Hank's work schedule versus family time negotiations. About their own negotiations too about how he wanted to or needed to spend time at home and with family.

And as much as the tired house needed work – time with them won out. Them and errands. Or both wrapped into the illusion of quality time. But that had somehow become quality time. Groceries, deli, butcher shop, bakery – with the promise of a treat and alone time with Hank. Somehow he made tagging along on errands and chores seem like something you wanted to do. And when it wasn't her turn to be dragged along on those 'outings' – when he was taking Justin or Ethan or both of them – then it meant she got the house for an hour or two without her brothers. With Camille. To sit in that breezeway room and read. To claim the couch in the front room and the TV remote to herself. To go upstairs and play her music without Hank barking at her about how loud it was or how long she'd been up there and not spending time with family. To get some alone time in her room or to spread out on the dining room table to work on homework – in quiet.

Quiet that so rarely seemed to settle in that house – when you had two younger brothers. But that she now so often seemed to feel the house was too quiet when she was in it. And she missed the noise of what a family sounded like. One with toddlers and teenagers and college-aged kids. All competition and arguing for space and attention – and pushing bounds and rules and regulations with their parents and caretakers. But there was laughter and smiles and happiness amidst all the mundane that really was something that she knew she longed for now. So badly. She missed that mundane routine of what had seemed like a 'normal' family to her back then.

And now, as abnormal as the family situation had become, she knew that Hank's 'when I find time' policy played more true. Hank didn't have time. And Erin knew he had even less now that she wasn't there to help with Ethan – even if Olive was trying and Jay was maybe sort of trying. Sometimes. Though, she didn't think he was much lately.

But Erin also knew 'when I find time' now was also applied to jobs Hank just didn't want to do. That's what it'd come to mean since Camille was gone. The jobs that meant tearing down the little monuments that had been left in the house by his wife and that had become quiet shrines over the past seven years. He never had time for those. Not to dismantle them. And Erin had doubted that as much as Hank knew Ethan needed a bathroom on the main floor – or how much he wanted to give that to him – that he'd be able to truly tear down Camille's sun room.

But he had. He'd found the time. The way. In the past six or so weeks – he had. And he hadn't said anything to her about it. And neither had Ethan. Or Jay. And Erin wasn't sure what that said. What it said about how often or little Jay had been over. Or Hank's read on where Ethan actually was. What the doctors were really saying. Or what he might be trying to protect her from.

So she just stared. Until apparently she'd stared too long because Olive poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Hey! Looks great, right?" Olive said – too cheerily. Still trying too hard. But somehow she managed to make it sound sincere. And Erin supposed she couldn't fault her in that.

But it was hard. Hard when Olive was there. And she wasn't. When Olive got to know things like this. And more. And she didn't.

"When'd that happen?" Erin responded.

Because she wasn't sure it looked great. It looked weird. It looked so fucking weird for that part of the house to be gone. Replaced. For that part of Camille to be gone. For that visible change to be there. And she wasn't sure that change was great. That the reasoning and motivation behind it held any sort of greatness.

Olive sort of shrugged at her. But held out her hands in a silent offer to take the casserole dish she had and the bag of apples and groceries she'd been able to scavenge from their scant kitchen at the townhouse. The ones that would hopefully amount to some sort of ingredients she could combine with Hank's stocked kitchen to make it look like her and Jay had made some sort of contribution to the Thanksgiving effort. Because Jay clearly hadn't thought about what they would take over. It hadn't crossed his mind. Their kitchen didn't look like eating had really crossed his mind at all that week. At least. Probably longer. Or at least eating had not being occurring at home. And Erin was still weighing what that said too.

But she had a pretty good idea. Last night – that morning – had left her with a much better idea where Jay was at. And where he wasn't at. And it was going to make the weekend harder. It was going to make leaving on Sunday harder. Because he was working at getting burrowed into a rabbit hole. And she could tell it wasn't one that he was too ready to stick his head out of. She got the sense he'd be happier to keep digging deeper and deeper inside. To act like the briar patch he'd found was all the protection he needed. Like it wasn't stabbing at him every which way just by being in there.

"They've been picking at it a while," Olive allowed, as Erin continued to stare at it but also managed to shuck off her coat and boots too. She managed to vague acknowledge Olive had spoken. To glance her direction. "He had some contractors in last few days to finish up the plumbing. First time I've been over with it usable."

Erin made a sound of acknowledgement. As much as she wanted to acknowledge that Olive knew more than her anymore about what was happening around the house. About what was happening in her brother's or Hank's lives. That Hank might be telling her more. Keeping her more posted. That he was turning to her for help – as much as he turned to anyone for help. And that Olive was there to see it too. To draw her own conclusions. And Erin wasn't.

"No Jay?" Olive asked with a look that was too concerned and again too genuine when Erin came into the kitchen. A look that made her know that whatever passing encounters her and Jay were having, Olive was seeing and reading into it too. And that Olive was seeing him more regularly than her too. That Hank saw him every day. That Upton did. That a whole host of people who weren't her did.

And they knew. They saw. It was Upton who had to call her and tell her that Jay was off. More off than usual. Off enough that Hailey was willing to risk the precarious level of trust that her and Jay were still establishing in their forced partnership to call. And even though Erin had enough of a read on Hailey to know that's the kind of person – the kind of cop – she was. She also knew it was a risk. That her doing that and broaching it with Jay might blow up in Upton's face. And it might end up having created more harm for Jay than good. Because now he'd bristle even more around Upton. He'd talk to her less. And he was just going to try to dodge anything Erin tried to broach with him about the miscible amount that Hailey had even told her. Because Hailey wanted her to know – but didn't want to cross a line, to betray his trust. Even though she had. Even if she hadn't. Not really.

Jay wasn't going to see it that way.

Erin started a bit at Olive's question. Because she really hadn't prepared an answer. And she likely should've. Maybe it proved just how many months she'd been away from U.C. work. Or just how … distracted she was herself. Because she was. In too many ways. There were just too many layers to what was going on. And she didn't know how to sort her feelings out about all of it in a long weekend. She wasn't even sure if she sorted her feelings about one thing – the pregnancy – if she'd be able to sort out her mess of feelings about everything else in the seven-ish months she had left to get herself together. Jay together. Their relationship together. Before she had to care for another living, breathing thing. Not thing. A person. Who she didn't want to fuck up. And she wasn't sure if she – if Jay – could manage not to fuck up a person right now. But that went back to … this wasn't about them. It was about the baby. Only that was about them too. But they … couldn't be the center of their own universe or universes anymore. They couldn't get sucked into black holes. And at least one of them was right now.

She should've prepared an answer to that question … to Olive questions. To where Jay was. But, she likely just thought that it would be Hank who'd be there. She hadn't expected Olive to be there that early on Thanksgiving Day too. For her to be the first one she'd see when she came in the door. Because if it'd been Hank, even though he might've given her a look about Jay's lack of presence, he wouldn't have said anything. Because Jay not being there would've said more than she needed to or wanted to.

"He'll be here," she provided, though. "In a bit. He just … had a thing."

Erin shrugged. She tried to be casual about it. She wandered away scoping out the quiet house. The too quiet house. But she could see the way Olive kept looking at her. Just proving that Jay wasn't doing well at hiding his current slide from much of anyone. Not matter what he thought.

And it was his current state that had her worried. Because it wasn't just her who needed to work on herself right now. He did. And he needed to make that decision for himself. And for them. And she wasn't sure he was in a place to be honest with himself – or her—right now about what he was actually capable of. Or what he even wanted. She wasn't sure he was in a place to know what he wanted either. What he was willing or able to do.

He defaulted. He tried to be the good guy. The man. To do the right thing. But she wasn't sure what he thought was the 'right thing' was the 'right thing' for him right now. And if it wasn't the 'right thing' for him right now, she wasn't sure if it was the right thing for her either. Or them. Or the baby. A child. A living, breathing human being that they had to do right by. And maybe they couldn't do that right now. Jay … they … couldn't just default. She couldn't – wouldn't – let him do that. Because a default reaction wasn't an ideal.

But she was going to take his "thing" as a good sign. A start. To try to figure this out. To herself sorted. To get him sorted. To get them sorted. To try to get what the next half a year would look like sorted. Or at least the next week or two.

She'd take it as a good sign that he'd lay in bed with her that morning after she knew he hadn't slept. Because his sleeplessness – the tension and anxiety next to her in bed – had meant that she hadn't slept much either. That she just tried to be close to him and to calm him down. To help him to start working at finding some sort of center so he could figure out not just the 'right' step that he thought he should take as a 'man' – but the step that was actually right for him.

She didn't need him to be a good guy right now. She knew he was a good guy. But to keep being that good guy – he needed to do what was right for him. He needed to be honest. He couldn't just be supportive. He didn't have it in him to be supportive right now. It'd be lacking and he'd end up hating himself when he fell short of his ideal. The lofty expectations he put on him.

Jay liked handing out the tough love to her. As supportive as he was – in her dark moments, he'd laid out the tough love. And maybe that was what she was used to responding to. Because that's how Hank had raised her. The way he'd raised Justin. And maybe it'd worked for her. Maybe it was what she still needed. But it wasn't her who needed it right now. And she knew it was going to have to be her who laid down some tough love to Jay that weekend. Though, she could also see – feel – that he needed a tender touch too. To try to lure him out of where he'd buried himself in hiding.

It was going to be hard, though. It would be really hard to accomplish in a weekend. With family commitments. With other conversations to be had. With a little brother who needed her too – a little brother she hadn't seen for weeks and weeks. So she hoped that Jay agreed to take some medical leave. He needed it. But she knew he'd balk at putting in for a few days of medical leave – stress leave – and the mandatory shrink consult on the way out and the way in from that time-off. He needed that too, though. And she needed him out of this situation for a few days. She needed him to come and look at that monitor screen too. For them to see the baby and for it to feel more real and for them to decide – to talk about – what they were capable of. And what they weren't. And to start figuring out a plan. The plan. Either way.

And maybe he was trying to get himself to recognize that too. To still be the good guy even if it wasn't ideal. Because he'd finally pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets and mumbled about checking to see if his group was meeting that day. That he thought it would. Because family time – family weekends, holidays – they were fucking stressful. And if they were meeting, he wanted to go.

And all Erin had said was 'OK'. Because he needed to go. And she suspected – she knew – he hadn't been since his undercover. When he was in a period he most needed to go. So badly. Because he sure wasn't talking to anyone else. And what he was doing wasn't working. And it wasn't going to work if he decided he wanted them to be a family and he wanted to be a father – and the kind of father Erin knew he could be. That he would be and should be – if he let himself. But she couldn't make him be any of those things.

But she needed it out of him. If he wanted them to be a couple and a family and a father. It was decision time. They couldn't fuck around anymore. They couldn't play house from a thousand miles away. To pretend they had a relationship or were working on their relationship. Their relationship wasn't working. And in the next week or so – they needed to decide what they were going to do about that. For real. They needed to make their ideal. And she wasn't interested in the one he saw on the Discovery Channel. They needed to make their own. Or … it was time for them to come to grips with what they were and weren't. Anymore. And to start working within that too.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **There will be a continuation of this scene from Erin's POV. This was just getting long and I have a bit more to write. It will be from her POV and develop into a convo between her and Olive (not about the pregnancy about the Ethan/Hank/home-front situation). And there will be an appearance by Hank, Ethan and Henry.**

 **After that I'm likely going to jump ahead to Erin back in NYC and do a Hank/Jay chapter or split scene with half from Jay's POV and the other from Hank's.**

 **I'll likely then jump ahead to around Christmas or New Years or Hank's birthday. I might start that as a separate fic just for clarity and in case I have time (or want) to come back and flesh out some of this more. Not sure yet. But either watch for that or follow me as an author if you want an alert and not miss it if a new fic gets posted under a new title.**

 **I'm going to try to have a few chapters out in the next week but it will really depend on several things.**

 **I also wanted to clarify that this story isn't meant to be a prequel to the Erin pregnant story (From the Get) that's posted. That one was written before the Erin character exited the series. This one is meant more to fold into the Hereafter AU and be set generally in S5 — within the AU established.**

 **I know that there are "holes" in this story or there will be. But I'm really more just writing scenes. Not moment by moment. So you aren't going to see everything in them figuring things out or going to the dating U/S. Maybe I'll go back and write those later. Maybe not. Really depends.**

 **Your reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	8. Big Plans

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin really didn't know how any of this was going to play out. And it added its own stress and anxiety to her too. Jay was right – the timing. She agreed. It was … awful. Worse than before.

But she was never great at timing. In life. Clearly.

But despite the piss-poor timing, there was this … growing … excitement in her too. And that was just as confusing. Because she was terrified. But she was excited. She was sad. But she was happy. It was too many emotions to try to sort through.

It was all just too much. Too much going on. But Hank – even if he was just quoting Lennon – was right. He'd like that. Hearing her say it. So she likely wouldn't. But he was right. 'Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.'

And maybe that just made it all the more terrifying. This added layer of lack of control when so much in her life felt out of her control anymore. She had so little grip on the important things … the important people … in her life. She had so little say in the decisions. Her knowledge had been streamed-lined and become selectively dependent on others. And on her ability – her years of training – to read people. These important people in her life and the situation.

She hated being out of control. There was so much in her life – so many times in her life – where she felt like she hadn't had control. That she had gone out of control. Or that it'd been robbed from her.

But that wasn't the case with this. She had control here. She had the final say in the decision here. It was her body. Her life. Her baby. Even if this was unplanned. Even if it hadn't been part of the plan. But maybe in some ways it was the plan they needed and life – the universe somehow knew that.

That this is what she needed now. That maybe it was what Jay needed now. What their relationship needed. And their lives. Their family. Her and Jay as a family. But Ethan and Hank too.

And maybe Hank was right in some other thing – that he'd told her while Ethan was sick. While he had to make his own decisions and life changes. That he'd come to learn that life gave you the kids you deserved and that usually meant they were the exact kids you needed too. That they were yours. Warts and all.

And she knew he spoke from experience. That it hadn't just been a commentary on Eth's predicament and what that would mean for the family. It hadn't been a commentary on all the ups-and-downs in his relationship with Justin. It'd also been about them. About how she came to be a part of the family and the clashes they'd had too. But that despite it all he still made a point to tell her that she was one of the best decisions he'd made in his life and one of the best things he'd done with his life. That she was worth it.

She didn't have those experiences. But she thought she could feel what he was saying. At least she could feel the sincerity behind it. That he cared. That he loved her. In the way a parent was supposed to. And maybe she had to trust that he was right. That life happens while you're making your other plans but it also gives you what you deserve and ultimately what you need in the moment. Even if it's really hard to look at it that way in the moment.

But maybe that was something she wanted too. Maybe she wanted to believe that this – pregnancy now, a baby now – was what she deserved. Or what she needed. And maybe it really was. Because every … that year … it'd spun her. Bunny had spun her. Her choices had spun her. The loss of Justin and all that fallout. Ethan being so sick. And she knew that what she needed was … something of her own. A family – a place – of her own. Where she wasn't just Ethan's quasi-big sister. And she wasn't Voight's girl. She needed something different. A title and a place and a purpose that was different. And she felt like maybe … now was the time for that. Maybe it made some sort of sense. In ways that she was still exploring and figuring out.

And she'd had time to process this. All of it. As much as she could. More time than Jay. And she was still sorting through it. She imagined she would be for … the next seven months. And … months … years after too. If they … she … kept the baby. If she did this. Either way. With or without Jay. Or at least the Jay that she'd fallen in love with. Because right now – he wasn't himself. But she wasn't ready to give up on him yet. Too many people had done that to him. And he was one person who hadn't done that to her. So she'd give him time. She'd try to help. She'd reach into his briar patch and try to get him to come out some.

Because she knew she'd been in denial at the start too. Much like Jay's shocked, disbelieving face the night before. But she'd expected that. She knew it'd be worse when he was drinking.

She hadn't really wanted to tell him while he was drinking. She hadn't really wanted to tell him when he was in such a bad place right now and he was struggling. Because she knew he wasn't in the best state of mind to process or handle or make decisions about any of it. To even talk about it.

But that was the thing. They needed to talk about it. And they needed to do that in person. Not over Skype or Facetime or just hearing each other's voices half-a-country away.

So she needed to tell him that weekend. She needed them to talk. And she wanted the time to do that. As limited as it was.

But she knew it took a bit to come to grips with. She still was coming to grips with this reality.

And she wasn't there yet. She'd taken weeks to even accept that it might be the reality.

She'd spent weeks thinking she'd had a cold that had knocked her senseless. Just taken the complete wind out of her. A cold so bad that it'd left her much fatigued than she could remember. A cold that kept her from coming back to Chicago for so many weeks because she didn't want Ethan to potentially catch what she had.

Apparently that hadn't really been something she needed to worry about. Though, she hadn't realized it.

It hadn't been until the never-ending cold turned into a puking flu – that didn't want to pass after a day or two that she accepted that more was going on with her body. Not that it hadn't stopped her from peeing on three sticks before she decided that she could be confident of the results.

It was strange this time. She could tell more than last time that something was happening in her body. The fatigue. The nausea. The tenderness. Her breasts just fucking hurt. She hated it. The cramping and minor spotting – despite her period never coming. The aching lower back that she'd thought was from her sitting on her ass at desks and in meetings and in interrogation rooms so much. How suddenly it felt like she could hardly run a mile without being short of breath – that apparently wasn't from lingering congestion from that cold. The headaches from hormones out of whack – not so much time dealing with computer screens and reading endless paperwork and reports. Bloating – that made the fucking all-business work attire feel that much more uncomfortable but seemed to mean her favorite jeans didn't fit the way she wanted anymore either. And maybe that would change if her body would just let her take a normal crap – but her bowels didn't seem happy with the predicament either.

The signs were there. In a more in her face way than last time. And that scared her too. If there was something wrong. If this was actually what early pregnancy felt like. Or if she should've even told Jay. Because he wasn't in the place to deal with hearing it. And she wasn't sure he would be in the place to deal with it if she lost the baby again. She wasn't sure she would be either. Especially if the loss conceded with her and Jay reaching a decision that they were no longer workable. And that scared her too. In so many ways. Because she wasn't sure – she knew – she wasn't in a place that made her being pregnant – and it sticking – made much sense. She was too stressed. That couldn't be good for the baby. And she wasn't sure that level of stress would mean that she'd make it through the first trimester.

And she'd already had a miscarriage before. She was more likely to have one again now. Only this time she'd be alone and in another city. Trying to process all that. If it came to that.

But she didn't want to play the what-if game. There were too many what-ifs. And she knew what she needed to do was just deal with the present. To make a decision that made sense for the future. For her. For the baby. And she hoped for Jay too. That he would want to be – could manage – being a part of the discussion. That he could put forward a coherent say in her decision process and not just tell her what he thought he should say.

That wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.

But staring into the front room she was again reminded that she didn't know what decision she wanted to hear. Or what decision even made sense. For her or the baby or Jay or Hank or Ethan or Olive or Henry.

She sighed. She didn't even try to hide it.

Pillows and blankets were stacked on the end of the couch. The inflatable camp mattress pressed against the wall not yet deflated. And Erin knew that Ethan and Hank had slept down there the night before. She knew they did that a lot. Anymore. Because Ethan couldn't sleep and Hank didn't sleep. So they'd lay with the light of the television screen until the sun came back up and they got to face another day. But she'd hoped that wouldn't be the case last night. Because Ethan was in his bed and sleeping when she left. Because Hank looked ready to keel over. That she thought he could sleep – if he let himself. If he want to bed and shut his eyes.

But apparently that hadn't happened. Apparently they'd both ended up in the front room again. They hadn't slept again. And they weren't doing themselves any favors. Today or any other day of the week – or year.

Olive heard her sound and peeked in too.

"Oh …," she said. "We got here really early. Deflating it was the next thing on my list."

Erin shrugged. There likely wasn't much point in taking the air out. Not when it only meant Hank would have to put it back in that night. But she supposed he likely put it away each day to keep up appearances. And even if that wasn't the case – it was better to do that today anyway. For space purposes. With Henry running around. With extra people potentially being in the house. And maybe people that Hank didn't want to fully see the starkness of their reality.

As much as you could hide it. You couldn't hide Ethan. And even if he somehow didn't look quite as frail that day, the other signs were around the house.

The new mail level half-bath. The other new editions to the house that Hank was being forced to remove some of his exhibits to Camille – to their previous family life – from. Just like 'Camille's bathroom' now had a stool in the shower and support bars screwed into the wall and a hand-held shower head in the tub. Just like Ethan's bed had changed to a frame and mattress that could prop up his head and his legs. To try to keep him comfortable and functional.

It was all just stark visible reminders of what was going on. Not just for any potential company that might be through the house that day. But for Erin too. Because she got to be away from it. And as much as she thoughts – know, though she hated to admit – that in a lot of ways being away from the job and Chicago and Bunny had helped her. Had helped her get her head on straight and to be able to start moving in the direction she needed to (though, she feared more and more it had so fucking obviously been at the peril of not just her relationship with Jay but just bad for him on a whole). But it'd meant that she didn't get these stark daily reminders. Staring her in the face.

And it made her question again how right one decision was over another when it came to this pregnancy. When it came to timing. About how Hank would react. What he'd say or not say. What he'd be thinking. If it would actually be a good thing for the family. Or if it would just make things worse – harder – for all of them. If they had the space for a baby in their family right now. The time. Not just her – or Jay … or her and Jay … but her family. Hank and Ethan and Olive and Henry … and even Will and … and maybe even Jay's dad. If any of them would want to – be able to – be a part of this.

And she wondered again if having a baby now – bringing a child into the world now – was just some sort of selfish fantasy. That somehow it would make things better or easier for any of them. When it likely wouldn't. And she wasn't sure it would make things better for her. Or if she was trying to fill up spaces and holes in her heart pre-emptively. And she didn't want to – knew she shouldn't – be doing that either.

But it went to the want and the need for something more. All the conversations she wanted to have with people that weekend about what that meant. About how they fit into it. And for her to try to keep spinning her head on straight.

More than just a job – now that she wasn't her job. More than a Chicago girl. More than a cop. More than a sister or friend or partner or fiancée. More than a 'like a daughter'. Or aunt.

A mother? Did she want that or need that? Or deserve that? For the right reasons?

She wasn't sure. Because even in the moments where this felt like it could be right. There were moments where it felt like it might be all wrong.

That she still wasn't ready for that. To be a mother? To raise another human being? To not fuck it up? To not just birth them into an already bad news story? To not just do this for herself. Because that was selfish too. And that was the for all the wrong reasons.

"I'll do it," she said and glanced back at Olive, pointing to the air mattress. "Deflate it."

Olive gave her a thin smile and disappeared back into the kitchen. Erin eyed her over at the counter – through the den, as much as she could – as she popped the nozzle and worked at pressing on the mattress. Listening to the air hiss out.

She could see that Olive was working on something that looked like a pie crust. The dough. She could tell that it wasn't working very well. So Erin knew it must be dough that Ethan could eat. Which meant it wouldn't roll out easily. And it wouldn't taste like pie crust. She'd been there. And she thought she was supposed to be there again that day. But apparently Olive had beaten her to the punch. Because she was there. Before her. After her. All the in-betweens.

Erin scanned the counter as much as she could from that angle and saw that canned pumpkin was sitting there. She'd planned on trying to get Ethan to help with apple. Or to do his mom's version (or so she told him) of apple crumble. So maybe they'd still do that. But she suspected that it was more likely that Ethan had put in a request for pumpkin. Because he didn't like it and neither did Hank much. But Justin did. And Camille. So maybe that was why Olive was making it. Maybe that'd be why Ethan – and Hank – would eat it that year too.

Erin folded up the mattress and stacked it on the pillows and blankets. She trotted them up the stairs and set them on the foot of Hank's – and Camille's bed – pulling the door shut behind her. It was quiet up there too.

"Thanks," Olive put to her as she returned to the kitchen. "Hank keeps saying he's going to get a recliner. Or a pull-out."

Erin just looked at her. She was going to say that wasn't going to happen. That Hank wouldn't add a recliner to the front room after all those weeks and weeks of sitting in a facsimile of one at the hospital trying to pretend you could sleep in it. He wouldn't add that. And he wouldn't rid his front room of the furniture that was older than her. The living room set that had been the gift from Camille's parents. The couch that too much had happened on for too many people. The space set up the way Camille had left it.

But who was she to say that now. What did she know. In a house where there was now a hospital bed and home-care bathroom aides. In a home where the monuments to its former matriarch was being dismantled to try to enhance the quality of life of the remaining child in the home while he was still living – and trying to live. And she knew that if Hank had brought himself to make changes to 'Camille's bathroom' and to tear down her sun room that adjusting the front room might be the next logical step.

But all she said was, "Where is everyone?"

Olive made a little gesture at the floor and Erin glanced and strained her ears and then looked through the dining room at the door to the basement – left open a crack.

"Guess that means he's doing a bit better today …?" Erin tried to ask casually.

Olive gave her a weak smile at that. "They both seem in good moods," she said.

Erin nodded. But she knew that Olive knew that she was asking more than that. And she hated to have to ask. To get the rundown from someone else. Their read on the situation. Because she wasn't there to read it herself.

"We had the cold snap a couple weeks ago," Olive allowed carefully. "He's slipped a bit."

Erin just looked back at the door. To the basement. To the underground. A place she didn't think Ethan needed to be spending any extra time in. Not in his living hours.

"But I think he's having a good day. They're looking for the Christmas decorations," Olive provided. "Outdoor lights."

Erin made a face at that. "He talked Hank into putting up the lights already?"

Olive shrugged and gave her the same look that Erin felt she was giving. "And he's working on convincing him to get up the tree this weekend too. While you're here."

Erin sighed at that and looked at the door again.

Ethan and holidays. Ethan and Christmas. And traditions, in general. It'd been hard enough last year. With Justin gone. All these traditions they had to do exactly the same. And now … it was different. Again. And it was so much harder.

To do it remotely. To know the memories her little brother was so desperately ensuring they made might be the last ones they made. They'd be what they had left. And for Erin each time she came home she was left to wonder how many more she'd get to make. How many gaps would she have between the ones she'd get to make with him. The moments she'd get to have.

And then she had this little teenaged boy quietly aware of that too. Trying to plan their family's schedule around her. Trying to jam pack their shared calendar with plans. Asking every time they talked when she was going to be home next and if she'd booked flights for weekends or extra days off at the holidays.

And she watched him add all these wants and needs to the family's calendar. Many that she knew wouldn't be feasible for him to do. Because Hank worked. And with Ethan it was day-by-day, if not hour-by-hour. And some of it was just unreasonable and overburdened. It was unrealistic. But that didn't stop him from putting in there. From the notifications popping up in her Google calendar and making her think more and more about what she was missing. And what made family. And what kind of family she could be – could have, could offer – to a baby. What she could offer to her family by bringing another member to it. And what that meant.

"Pick your battles …" Olive said, snapping Erin out of her reflection.

And Erin knew it'd been a saying that Hank had adopted too much lately. And there weren't many he seemed to feel were worth fighting with Ethan anymore. Not for things like what was an appropriate time frame for Christmas decorations to go up. There were more pressing things that needed their time and energy.

"I was going to try to be home for the Breakfast with Sue weekend," Erin offered. To the wrong audience. And there wouldn't be a right one because she knew it was a wishy-washy commitment. Only maybe it wasn't.

Because Hank had asked her about it too. Because … it might not just be their last opportunity to take a family photo with the stupid Trex before they moved it and redesigned to meet … whatever scientific discoveries they'd made about the giant lizard since the thing was erected in Field. It might be … a different last too. Because Camille always took that photo. Because Ethan had wanted to take Henry the year before. Because Ethan was having a meltdown about them moving Sue out of the main hall in favor of a titanosaur. Because … Ethan …

"I know …" Olive said. And they shared eyes. Until Olive sighed too. "I think … Christmas will … look …" and it just hung there. Because there was only so much you could say and it was easier if you didn't. "I don't … I can't … imagine. Hank …"

Erin just nodded and looked away. She looked back to the door. Because she didn't want to think about it either. How he was dealing with any of it. How he'd make it through it. If it was better or worse that this might drag on for years.

"They're taking a long time," Erin said. "They should be just under the stairs. All the Christmas boxes."

Olive made a little noise and met her eyes again. "That's the other project you missed."

And that stung. Though Erin knew Olive hadn't meant it that way. But it still hurt. Because Erin knew she was missing so much. And she had fears about just how much she'd have missed – what she would miss – with being so far away. And all the regrets and guilt and sadness that was going to growing out of that.

That she needed to be home. For so many reasons.

"The basement is being turned into a workshop," she said. "Everything has been moved around. And I think Hank is this close to dragging the motorcycle down there."

Erin rubbed at her eyebrow and nodded. "I'll talk to him …" she muttered. Because the request – the demand – was there from Olive.

But Erin knew even in the best of times Hank only listened to her so much. And she wasn't sure they were back into a place where anything she said held much weight with him. Though, she was hoping that was something they might be able to work on a bit that weekend too. If he let her. If he gave her time. Alone time. One-on-one time. Like she was his daughter. And she was home. Like when she was growing up. When he raised her.

Olive nodded and eyed her a little more shyly. "I know … Hank can be … selective … about what he tells people," she said a little more quietly. "So … I wanted to just kind of let you know that he asked me about maybe in the lead up to the holidays, me and Henry staying here. For a while. With his job … and stuff …"

And Erin stared. She tried to process that and the knew sting that was radiating in her. The reality of the role she didn't have in the family anymore – or at least right now.

"He said they've been jerking him around …" was what she managed to get out.

Olive shrugged a little – like she didn't know. "It's just hard," she said. "It's not good for Ethan him having to drag him over in the middle of the night. And it's not good for Henry to be brought over here at all hours either."

Erin nodded. She knew there was truth in the statement. She knew that Olive must appreciate that … it was awkward. Or else she wouldn't have broached it. And Erin was kind of glad she had. Because she wasn't sure Hank would've. And it would've been awkwarder to come home at Christmas and to find that Olive had become a full-time resident at Hank's … in her old room.

"And, really, with studying for exams and work … I appreciate having the extra help watching Henry too …," Olive tried.

"Makes sense," Erin said. Because really, what more could she say?

Anymore she didn't know what to say about all … or any … of it. Everyone was just trying their best in a less than ideal situation.

But acknowledging that didn't make it any easier. At all.

But Erin didn't get a chance to dwell on it. There was the click of claws on the stairs and the trample of Bear charging up – and at her. The full-grown dog that still thought it was a puppy barging right into her.

And then – with the door bashed open – finally the clearer voices of Hank … and Ethan … and Henry.

"E just leave that," Hank could be heard saying from the bottom of the stairs.

"I've got it," Eth said.

"Put it down. Just focus on getting up the stairs," Hank order, closely followed by, "H, no. Let's let Magoo go."

And she could hear his crutches. His slow, teetering process up the wooden steps. But then he was there. And he lit up seeing her.

"Took you long enough," he told her.

She gave him a thin smile. "Didn't get my wake up call," she fibbed a bit. Because she'd never exactly gone to sleep.

"Dad said to let you sleep in," he told her. He looked okay. As okay as Ethan ever looked. But better than the night before. But he was upright. He was awake. He was smiling. And that counted for a lot. It counted for more when he came over – voluntarily and gripped her in a hug. One that still had some strength in it. Some warmth. And she didn't want to let go. Though, he only let you hold him for so long and on his own terms.

Besides Henry was tottering up the stairs behind him – given the task of gripping an oversized plastic candy cane that he was wielding as something between a walking stick and a sword.

"Mommieee! Look," he declared as soon as he got to the top of the steps. "Canny cane. But you don't eat." Olive smiled and took it from him but he yanked it back and shoved it toward Erin instead. "Tarin! Look! Canny!"

"Wow …," she agreed and smoothed down his hair a bit. Henry at least must've gone under the basement stairs on Hank and Ethan's behalf. He was covered in dust and dirt. So were his knees like he'd been crawling around and into something. But he would be. He was a Voight boy. They were always into something. When they were little and when they were big. Kids and adult men.

And she wondered if that was nature or nurture. And just how much nature or nurture would ever play true. How much her child could be a Voight rather than a Fletcher. If she'd be the mother that Hank and Camille had nurtured or the one that Bunny had made her by nature. And that scared her too.

"Anty Tarin! It Kiss-miss!" Henry told her.

"It's Thanksgiving," Ethan corrected and looked at her expectantly. "But we can start Christmas tomorrow."

"Can we?" Erin raised her eyebrow at him.

He shrugged at her. Just this mix of adolescence irony and little boy delight. The kid who made her wonder if she could love another child – baby – the way she'd loved him. Or just how much it would hurt watching your child – your baby – go through the things Ethan was going through. Because she knew how much it hurt when it was her brother. Her baby brother. Her family but not blood. And if she felt that way. How did Hank feel? How would she feel about the child growing inside her?

"We are actually going to decorate today," Ethan smirked at her. That smirk. So fucking much of Justin there. And Hank. Ethan ran his own game. He knew how to use his disadvantages to his advantage.

But no one was going to fight him on Christmas.

"Are we?" Erin mouthed at him.

Hank finally emerged – plopping one box at the top of the stairs and disappearing back down the steps to return to with two more. He nudged the one box across the floor with his foot. But then he glanced up at her and gave her a smile – a real one out of Hank, one that actually crept out of him when he was around his grandson, that maybe her and Ethan drew out of him too in the right moments – and he scooped up the one box and came over to her, shoving it into her arms.

"Hey, Kiddo," he said and did that little cup of the back of her head that … still felt … so familiar and comforting. Like it was ingrained in her as the offer of affection that she needed. "You sleep?"

She gave him a little shrug and adjusted the box a bit. It wasn't heavy and she momentarily wondered if that had been purposely. But it was heaping and bulky, overflowing with icicle lights.

"Good," he said and gave her head that little shake while she gave that obligatory little sound of protest that she never really meant. "Got big plans for you."

And it always seemed like he did. Sometimes bigger than she felt she deserved. Or could handle. But at least that time – he just nodded toward the front door. The one that Henry and Ethan and Bear were already barging toward in a mess of boys. And Erin knew that she could at least handle 'big plans' that included helping wrangle a couple little boys, a dog and a few strings of lights.

And she could handle that – if Hank … and Camille … and growing up with Justin and Ethan … doing her part in helping raise them too – had taught her that much. Maybe she could handle the other big plans – big expectations and responsibilities – that life had for her. No matter the timing. Or just how hard and scary and painful it felt.

 **AUTHOR NOTE: Your reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	9. Mr Magoo

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 ******** PLEASE NOTE: This chapter is set during Thanksgiving weekend. It will be re-ordered later to set it prior to the Selfish Decisions chapter that's currently ahead of this. ********

Hank stared at the television screen, rubbing at Magoo's back. Kid was pretty much passed out right over top of him.

Should've known better than to sit in E's 'spot' on the couch. The one closest to the boob-tube. But he'd been trying to see the screen too without having to go back into the kitchen looking for his glasses.

Was fully trying to avoid whatever spat was going on in there. The playing house in his house. All the fucking martial problems without the marriage contract. Little bit of bullshit. Didn't stick around long enough to even attempt to hear what they'd gotten into it about. Most of it was happening with looks and body language even if he had wanted to eavesdrop on the annoyed whispering that was going on between those two. And really didn't. Sat his ass down with Magoo – let them deal with the dinner clean-up and whatever the fuck else it was they were on about, which given the fucking distance between the two of them could be a whole lot – and turned up the television.

E had him looking for the Muppets Christmas Special on the damn YouTube thing. Apparently he wasn't typing the search into the thing fast enough for the kid's liking. Or just fucking kept misspelling the thing with the idiot scroll pad on the screen. Took a good twenty minutes to get anything even typed into the search function. So they'd ended up with the Mr. Magoo Christmas Carol instead.

Hank wasn't even sure he'd ever seen the thing. Or if he had, it hadn't been since he was a kid. But E was intrigued enough to want to view his namesake's Christmas special. Hank wasn't so sure he felt like enduring the feel-good-glumness of a Christmas Carol – even if it had Mr. Magoo in it. But E had quieted down – became oblivious to the little song-and-dance going on in the kitchen to be going and getting underfoot. And had passed out before he started making any sort of connections that these days he might have more in common with Tiny Tim than he did Mr. Magoo. So thankful for the small things.

Little blessings. Not getting into that kind of depressing back-and-forth of his own with his son. Better to just let him lay there across his lap and draped over the arm rest. Working at seeping up his body temperature. Knew he should likely move him into a more comfortable position or get him right upstairs while he was too fatigued to bother arguing about it. That maybe he'd get his kid through the night in his own bed for the first night in nearly two weeks if he did carry him up that moment. But supposed he didn't want to risk waking him and starting up some other kind of battle of the wills in the living room.

E might be sick but still a teenager. And still a Voight. And still his mom's son. And with all of that – he was a stubborn little fuck.

Good. He needed to be. To get through any of this.

Besides, enough battle of the wills going on that night. And got the sense that Erin was instigating a lot of them.

Pretty sure she'd won whatever it was that her and Halstead were bickering about. The guy had eventually come into the front room and sat down in the arm chair. Slumped down. They shared a look. But didn't say a thing.

Better that way.

And knew the whole thing might've just been a bit of a button pushing game going on out there. Erin had been working at that with him that day too. Had had to outright walk away from her a couple times to shut her down. Least momentarily.

At him about the basement workshop that Olive had tipped her off to. Trying to treat it like he was fucking set up the house for them to end up with carbon monoxide poisoning. Or that he was going to be dragging power tools down there for E to be using unsupervised and he was going to be cutting a hand off.

Just bullshit. At him about the medication and treatment plan they had E on. At him about some of the extra mumbo-jumbo stuff they were trying – but if it helped, it helped. He didn't really care much at this point. Eastern, Western. Fucking Jedi. Just as long as it was helping. That E felt like it was helping. That he could see a difference. Even if it was only for thirty-six hours of placebo mindtricks. Didn't fucking care.

At him about the school and education situation. About the quarter report that had come home before the holidays and just what the fuck he'd be saying to the admin and staff and teachers and EAs and tutors in the follow-up meetings and conference.

At him about E's sleeping. And E's TV watching.

And Christmas plans.

Just fucking at him. And she wasn't taking the hint that most – all – of these conversations were just not something he was going to get into with her with Ethan within earshot. He understood that – sure, some of it they needed to talk about with some face time and they only had limited time over her being there to do that – but he just wasn't going to get into it with E right fucking there. Was going to upset him. Was going to upset all of them.

And that was the thing. Want to talk about triggers – the lax-faced PTSD slag that was painted all over Jay's Thanksgiving scowl – Erin was doing really good at getting him to trigger too. Just making him think back on the last two years of visits he got with J when he came home. And it was just endless bombardment of questions and opinions and commentary about E and about his medical decisions and about his parenting.

That even though he had the sense of pride about the way J had turned his life around in the last few years before he was taken from them, it was overshadowed by all the fucking conflict there'd been at home and over the phone. What that'd done to J's relationship with his brother and his sister. What it'd done to their own relationship. Lost time it'd created due to the conflict and being forced to draw lines in the sand and pick sides. And the side he had to pick was his sick little boy. And that had implications for his relationship with his first-born son and his relationship with grandson. And Hank fucking hated that. He hated what it'd done to their family. And he hated the regret and guilt that not just him carried about it. That E did too. And Erin.

He wasn't going to play that fucking game again. He wasn't going to have what time him and Erin had left with Ethan to be them devolving into conflicts about how to approach any of it. He wasn't going to have Ethan more aware than he already was that he and his sister were having disagreement. And he wasn't going to let Ethan and Erin get into it either. Wasn't going to have either of them carrying more guilt or regrets or sadness. There was more than enough of all of that to go around.

And Hank really just needed Erin to accept that she wasn't fucking there. She wasn't. And he didn't fault her in that. He was proud of what she was managing. He could see the changes in her. He could tell she was more than working on getting herself straight. But she wasn't there. Not for the day-in, day-out of this. This fucking slog. She didn't come home from the job to the stark reality of a sick kid. And all the levels of mess that entailed – physically, mentally, emotionally, financially.

So he only fucking cared so much what she thought about any of it. He just really needed her to fucking trust him. To trust the fact that he could handle this and he was making the best decisions he could – as a father.

And she also had to get her head around the fact that – medically, he just really didn't give a shit what she thought. At all. That after he sat down and listened to everything all the docs had to say – that only one person's opinion mattered to him. That the only voice he was listening to in this was Ethan's. Because it was his life. And only Ethan knew fully what he was feeling and what he was going through and what he wanted.

And, yes, Hank was taking the fact that he was dealing with a brain-damaged fourteen year old when he was hearing those thoughts and wants and needs out. But it didn't change the fact that it was his kid and a kid grown enough and old enough and experienced with the medical racket enough that he knew what his lines and boundaries were.

Ethan wanted to be in the hospital as little as possible. He wanted to be at home. He wanted to maintain his quality of life as much as he could. He didn't want to be in a medical trial or to be a science experiment or some sort of study. It'd taken a whole lot of hard talks and negotiations with a little boy who wasn't so little for them to come to an understanding and an arrangement as father and son – as patient and caretaker – about how they were going to move forward. It'd taken more finagling with the docs. But they'd come up with a plan. They'd picked an option to try. And they were moving as well as they could – within the realm of Ethan's wishes. Full stop.

Unless Erin had suddenly found the cure to pediatric progressive multiple sclerosis, she just needed to … back off. Because Hank had had to bite his tongue hard that day. To keep from barking at her. About how she just didn't understand – she couldn't understand – how fucking frustrating this was for him. That the fucking doctors knew next to shit about multiple sclerosis. They knew less about the progressive kind. And they knew jack-all about pediatric onset multiple sclerosis. That the situation was even more complicated since with all the fucking optic nerve shit that came up in the summer – the optic neuritis – it'd been discovered that the M.S. was busy eating at E's peripheral nervous system too. Something they were starting to 'discover' more and more in M.S. patients with the progressive typing. But something they knew jack-all about. You'd think it'd logically make good sense. It's progressive. Eventually the fucking thing is going to starting eating at something other than the central nervous system. The fucking perpherial nervous system connected into the fucking central one. Didn't think you needed to be competing for the Nobel Prize to put together those pieces. But apparently this was some sort of groundbreaking information. So groundbreaking that they'd once again floated wanting to get E into some sort of study. Had hardly let them get that out of their mouth before he'd shut it down. Hard-no. Full-stop. His son had been through enough. They'd put him through enough. They were going to put him through more and E was going to endure a hell of a lot fucking more. He wasn't going to let Ethan be some science experiment. Not again. Not now.

Not when the fucking doctors couldn't even tell him how Ethan got it. Any of it. The M.S. Progressive. Pediatric. Central. Peripheral. It didn't fucking matter what term they started talking about all the doctors were just spouting speculation at him. That every fucking neurologist they sat him in front of had a different fucking opinion. That maybe it was the brain trauma. That maybe it was because of some infection he got as a preemie. Maybe it was just because he was a preemie. That maybe it was some really bad flu – that Hank couldn't remember the kid ever asking – as a littler boy. That maybe it was all the stress of the loss of his mom and his brother in jail and him in lock-up and boarding school causing some sort of inflammatory reaction in his nervous system that rewired him in some irreparable way. That maybe E had just lost some sort of genetic lottery and him and Camille had this unknowingly somewhere in their genetic make-up. Or that their surprise baby had just come together in a way that left him missing chromosomes and wired differently than the rest of the fucking population. That maybe if they kept asking him the right way Hank would eventually agree that his or Cami's parents were from fucking Scandinavia or some other Canadian or Russian desolate, sun-deprived Arctic tundra and they just brought the fucked up ancestry and lack of Vitamin D to the New World. Though, they seemed to think Austrian-Hungarian-Germanic roots were enough to place some blame on him – and his generations-ago relatives too. When he already wrecked his head with enough self blame in trying to figure out how he could've prevented this from happening to his little boy.

But the turth was that no one knew. They didn't fucking know shit. And if they fucking couldn't even decide what was slowly eating away at his little boy – or why - how the fuck were they supposed to fix it?

They didn't know. Which meant Hank didn't know. He didn't fucking know how to help his boy. Or how to fix his boy. How to fix this.

Steroids. Vitamins. Supplements. Diet. Auto-immune. Auto-inflammatory. Neurological disease. Demyelination. Injections. IVs. Immunoglobulins. Chemotherapy. Plasma transfers. And now fucking drugs they gave to patients with AIDS. It all just fucking blurred together. Just fucking words that didn't seem to hold much meaning. Or much hope.

It was all just a holding pattern. A way to try to hang out and get by. Until some medical genius or biologist or science geek figured it out. And the medical community – and all the politics and economics connected to that – caught up and actually made it available to sick little boys. And Hank didn't have a whole lot of hope – even though he hoped – it'd happen in Magoo's lifetime.

So that's all he could do. Hope. And try the options that were in available to him that E was willing to endure at this point. And that was these meds. That was going in every month for a day to let them scrub up his blood. To sit there with that fucking machine making its sounds for hours on on end. Triggering them both. And causing a whole lot of fall-out in the days after that wasn't just symptoms and reaction to whatever the fuck they mixed the cleansed plasma with to pump it back into his body. And keep on doing the injections. Keep up with E's diet and lifestyle adjustments – and limitations – in trying to give him something that resembled a life.

Not a normal one.

Because that was something he couldn't do. This wasn't fucking normal.

A sick kid. A disease poking holes through his every being. And his hands tied. By science and doctors. And at work. By a fucking jagoff coming after him and making him waste time that he'd rather be giving to his boy. That he'd rather be giving to a city – and the people in it – that the fucking Ivory Tower seemed set on ignoring in favor of navel gazing.

So he took the time he had – when he shut the barn doors and ignored the game Denny was running for a few hours at a time. And he tried for normalcy. He tried for a life for E. He fought for it. To give the kid some of what he wanted. So he could say he'd lived.

And if that meant puttering on the motorcycle – then yea, Hank was going to get the basement set up so they had somewhere to do that in the warm and dry over the winter months.

And if that meant he had to near twist E's shop teacher's arm to breaking to let the kid participate in that class and rush the equipment while everyone else stood around waiting to call 911 – yea, he was going to do that too.

Just like he'd signed off on the RIC's fucking swimming and scuba lessons – and listened to E's hope that he'd get to go on the big dive trip if he completed the course. Because E – despite all this illness eating away at his body was still an active boy, still an athlete at his core – but he couldn't do much more than listen to ball right now. But he could get into the water. It didn't hurt. He said after each of those sessions – he felt like he could actually move easily. So he'd do that too.

He'd keep handing Ignatius money to buy their extra circuit boards and solder so E could keep participating in that – even though his unsteady hand destroyed more projects than it completed. But he got to look at his boy's pride when he managed to get it right and bring up a little transistor radio to play up in his room. And show him how some fucking computer in a cardboard box could do a hell of a lot more than the clunky old laptop they had in the den and Camille's over-sized paper weight that he still had taking up the space on the desk. It sure proved the point that that thing they'd saved up for to power all her research and databases and spreadsheets and files upon files of family photos and home video was pretty much out of the stone-age now.

That, yea, he'd agreed to take the state provided tutor. To acknowledge and treat and accept that Ethan was sick and couldn't manage a normal school schedule even on an IEP. That instead he was at Ignatius part-time and doing the type of classes that a tutor couldn't. That he spent the rest of his time with an EA or the tutor or the cognitive therapist – often over at RIC – trying to work through the more academic subjects in a completely adjusted program and a completely adjusted timeline and expectations.

That, yea, he'd accepted that E wasn't going to wrap up high school with the rest of his class. That he might not ever really wrap it up at all but that hopefully he'd end up with some sort of piece of paper declaring some sort of equivalency. And he'd had to fight for all of that. With himself to accept it and with the school and the bureaucracy and the doctors to get it all in place. So now there really was only so much he could say about anything that came to E's education. His son would be educated – smart – in different things and in different ways. And that was what it was. And it was alright.

He'd drive him back and forth to Field. He'd look at the dinosaurs over and over again. And the fucking rocks that Magoo now found just as fascinating. And let him volunteer at every Accessibility Lab he could manage. Saturday after Saturday. Because RIC and Field and the folks there were about the only saving graces they had in people offering any sort of support to try to give E a life that felt normal. Even if only for a few hours at a time.

He'd let E watch more television than he used to. Things that he didn't used to let him watch. Sometimes hours at a time. All night. All weekend. On the damn couch. That he didn't spend all night or all weekend policing his homework either. And if E wanted – needed – to nap all afternoon, then let him. Because that's what his body was telling him. And getting the kid to accept that and to listen to his body and slow down had been a feat and a lesson in itself. And it was fucking progress. Good progress for all of them.

So if the fucking school nurse or his EA called in the middle of the day to say that Magoo had lay down in the nursing station – he'd tell them the say. Let the kid sleep. And if he was still sleeping at the last bells of the day – don't wake him. He or Olive would go over and retrieve and relocate him to a new place to get his rest.

He didn't care. About any of it anymore. The battles and arguments weren't worth it. And there were a whole lot of things – school, grades, extra-circular, baseball, volunteer hours, plans for college or career - that weren't worth getting all worked up about. There just weren't.

Because the thing that Hank got the most worked up about was when he had the time – the quiet – to think about what it'd be like when it got too quiet. When he didn't have all this to fight for – for his son. His son to care for and to try to make shit normal for. And a city and the citizens in it to try to make it better for too. When all that was stripped away. Or even when half of it was striped away.

He needed Erin to understand – to accept – that he was still figuring this all out. That he didn't know how to be a father in all of this. To be a father to a sick kid. But he was doing his best. He was trying to be the dad – to set the rules and boundaries and chores and responsibilities. He was trying to prepare Ethan for life when he didn't know what his boy's life would even look like. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it would look like now. Or if his son would even get to the point that he got to live life as an adult. But they had to act like he would. They had to prepare him to be a man and to manage his life and responsibilities and money and career. Even if Ethan never got to that point.

Because maybe he wouldn't. Hank didn't know. And no one could tell him. All these lax timelines with all these caveats. And the only think he felt like he knew anymore was that he just fucking didn't know.

Hank didn't know what his life looked like. After all of this. Or who he even fucking was. How he'd fucked up. What he hadn't fixed. And who the fuck to blame. Or how to get any sort of justice about what his family had gone through. What his wife and children and grandchild had been forced to endure.

Erin needed to understand that too. She needed to realize that he was doing okay. That Ethan was too. That they were both doing the best they could. And that was the best either of them could do. That the situation was far from prefect – that Denny was doing his best to make it harder. But they were managing. Even if he was being pulled in every direction. But he had to let himself be pulled. Because he needed the job. He needed the job for more than the pay check and more than the benefits.

He needed it to keep on being the kind of father – the kind of man – that his son needed in all of this.

But that wasn't going to always be the kind of man that Erin wanted him to be. And he didn't need her leaning over his shoulder telling him the way she thought he should be.

He needed her to be living her life. Because this – all of this – didn't need to be her life. She needed to have more. She needed to work on more. On having her own life and purposes. Because when this was all said and done – just him – it, he, wasn't going to be enough for Erin. And she needed and deserved more.

That's what she needed to work on. That's what she needed to have all straightened out before she came back. Because if she didn't, she was just going to let this mess swallow her up too.

And it wouldn't fucking matter if he figured out some sort of justice in it all anyway. Or she did. Because justice – revenge – it never felt as good as you wanted.

And he'd rather still have all the fucking exhausted, never-ending strife that was his now than to have that empty feeling and that quiet house. Than have his daughter's scorn. For him to look at him again the way she had in the past.

And he'd near dumped all of that on Erin that day. It'd near bubbled out in a rage with her prodding. Her poking and prodding. Her opinions and questions. Nearly barked it all at her. Near spat it at her.

But he'd clipped himself onto a leash. He'd reeled himself in. And he'd walked away.

Because she didn't need to hear him say all that. Even if maybe she did. But he wasn't going to have that kind of angry, emotional breakdown in front of his daughter. With his sick son nearby. Because none of them needed that. None of them needed what that would do to their relationships. And none of them needed what it'd do to their weekend. To their Thanksgiving. Where he had to force himself to find things he was thankful for. But the things he could most easily point at were right there: Ethan, Erin, Henry. He wasn't going to fuck that up with the kind of arguments and blow-ups and tension and lines in the sand that had happened with Justin. He just wasn't going to do that again.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **This chapter is set during Thanksgiving weekend. It will be re-ordered later.**

 **The next chapter is a continuation of this. Still from Hank's POV. It will be posted later today. Please check for it.**

 **Also, this chapter was posted less than 24 hour gap with the previous one — immediately before this (Selfish Decisions). Please check that you didn't miss it.**

 **I'm really going to try to get a handful of chapters out in the next several days.**

 **Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	10. New Traditions

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 ******** PLEASE NOTE: This chapter is a continuation of the one posted immediately before this — earlier today — Mr. Magoo. This chapter is also set during Thanksgiving weekend. It will be re-ordered later to set it prior to the Selfish Decisions chapter that's currently ahead of this. ********

Hank wanted Erin to just fucking focus on the positives that weekend. To just try to enjoy what was right there in front of her. He wanted the take away to be the happy – fucking ridiculous – moments that they needed to be thankful for. Those moments in time.

E sitting on a pile of newsprint, bundled up on the front stoop like they were in the January freeze, rather than just fucking the end of November. The fucking faded and so-fucking '90's plastic snowman taking up the space on their little square of grass in front of the house. Trying to lace the grimy light-up candy canes to metal stair railings while H tried to lick all that twenty-odd years of dirty and dust off them. Wanted her to remember that they got some time together out front. Holding the ladder. Stringing the lights.

Didn't need her to think too much about the way the Prokops had shared looks with them when they came out their front door and got into their car. Looks but no words. Because they hadn't spoken since Ethan had been home. Not about the role that little fucking Holly had played in the other half of what had happened to his boy that June. The psychological warfare that she'd contributed too and spilled over onto the internet and would haunt his son for the rest of his life. Though, Hank had said just enough to the missus that it was clear that after the divorce was settled – better be just the mister left with that house. That he wanted them off his block. Out of his neighborhood. And away from his boy. That her and her daughter better not so much as look at his son until that happened. And they didn't.

He didn't need Erin thinking about the looks they'd gotten from some of the other neighbors getting in their vehicles or answering their doors for their Thanksgiving guests either. Didn't need her to draw the conclusion he'd come to from the looks – the frowns and the false pity he'd seen in their faces: that they'd be getting more Christmas cards that year. The ones that contained some kind of advanced condolences that he didn't want or need.

And that he'd likely get another round of frozen meals from some of the Old Birds in the neighborhood. The same ones that filled their freezer when Camille had died. And the ones that, however well-meaning now, would all be full of food that Ethan couldn't eat. Not without adding to the inflammation load that his body couldn't figure out how to process and beat. And that just opened him up to infection. And infection opened his body up to another flare. And that opened them up to being back in the hospital. And more infection. To pneumonia. To moving up the timeline of the time they had with E.

So he'd have to find some sort of way to graciously decline the Old Biddies efforts. Or just take them into the bullpen. Knew that there were a lot of people on his team that weren't taking too good of care of themselves these days. Could likely start out with stocking Jay's fridge. And then move on to working on making sure that Al was ingesting something other than alcohol. And that Adam and Kim were taking care of their sisters and their nieces and nephews. That Atwater wasn't finding his own hole of loneliness to fall into. Lose weight, put on muscle. But still got to eat. Still got to sleep. All of them.

Wanted Erin to remember more – to take away – the ridiculously, silly, kids-say-the-darnedest things conversation with her brother and nephew out on those steps.

Ethan working to educate Henry on Santa Claus and all the logistics of Christmas.

"So what do you want Santa to bring you?" E had asked his nephew after his extended explanation. Fine. Magoo still liked to motor. Rambled even more now in those hours after his medications. A fucking drug-induced daze.

"Karz!" Henry had told him too firmly. Way too much in-the-know for the whole Santa thing to be his first briefing. Olive – or the daycare – must've already started priming him.

"Hot Wheels," E had corrected him hopefully.

Henry nodded but added, "Light-ting! And Madder!"

"Mmm …," Hank had interjected from up on the ladder, catching his grandson's eyes. "Know who's going to be madder if he has to watch Cars again?"

"Matter," Ethan corrected on his nephew's behalf.

But Hank just ignored it and caught his grandson's excited eyes down on the ground to answer his own question. "Popa."

Henry stirred and toddled as fast as his little legs could take him – which was pretty damn fast anymore. Hank snapped his fingers at Erin and pointed for her to grab the kid before he charged straight into the street.

"I fast! Fast as Light-ting," Henry told Erin as she gripped at his elbow and hauled him too a stop.

"You're too fast, Henry," she said. "For all of us. You're growing up too fast."

He pulled free from her and came over to stand by the ladder instead, staring up at Hank. "Papa!" Henry told him. "Tanta bring Karz. And panes!"

"Pains is right," Hank said. "In Popa's butt."

It'd gotten a small sound of amusement from Erin but a groan out of Magoo.

"Dad, you know he said Planes. The other movie. Rusty."

"Wuss-ee!" H agreed.

"Hmm …," he grunted. "If you say so."

E had looked at H. "We're gonna watch Planes, Trains and Automobiles this afternoon."

"Twains!" H had just lit up. "Taw-miss?"

"Not really," E had muttered at the toddler.

"And, you aren't really watching that while your nephew's up," Hank at provided and E gazed up at him hurt. "Wait for naptime."

"NO NAP!" H had shrieked.

"No nap," E had agreed. But that was dreaming on the kid's part. Knew with certainty that H and E's naptimes coincided pretty good. E's would just be passed out on the couch while the fucking movie played in the background.

"What are you asking Santa for for Christmas?" Erin had teased her brother.

But Ethan had stopped and considered it. "Well, we don't get to ask Santa for stuff," E said. "But Olive's taking Henry to see Santa. So he should just know what he's gonna ask for."

"Light-ting," Henry affirmed again. Pretty clear to Hank that Olive was working on getting him set on being consistent on one thing. Good luck to her on that. At any age.

"Erin," Ethan had asked though after, "when'd Santa stop bringing you presents?"

Erin had raised an eyebrow at E from handing the lights up to Hank. "Santa still fills my stocking."

Hank could feel E's eyes roll a bit at that. As much as he was able to control his eyes to get them to do that. But he was a teenager. Eye-rolling was some sort ingrained automated function in them.

"No," E put back to her. "When did you stop like getting the wrapped gift? Like from Santa's workshop or whatever."

Erin had suppressed a laugh at Ethan's awkward and careful way of putting the question to her all the while gazing at his little nephew like the kid was absorbing or understanding any of this enough to be reading between the lines and already working on becoming a non-believer at two-and-a-half.

"Ahh …," Erin finally managed and gazed up at him along the eaves trough that he was trying to get the lights to clip on to. "Hank?"

He just grunted. "Don't remember."

"Pretty sure Santa's elves had a gift for me the first two or three years?" she said.

He just shrugged, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. The clips on these fucking old lights weren't co-operating. He was either going to have to see if he had any ties in the shed or he'd be battling the crowds tomorrow to get some new strings of the fancy, overpriced LED bullshit. Or the even more ridiculous twirling spotlights. E would likely want Darth Vader in a Santa cap or something.

But he felt Erin's hands against the ladder. The weight of her thought. "He did brought one," she assured and he felt her eyes staring up at him – or the bottom of boots, his ass or the underside of his crotch, wasn't exactly an ideal position to have your daughter looking up to you. So he'd shifted what he was doing to look down at her and there was this purpose in her eyes. "I got that portable CD player the first Christmas. Sony. Teal. Waterproof. A sport one. It played MP3s."

"What are MP3s?" Ethan asked. And Erin shot him a look but he just gave her a big shit-eating grin. He was fucking with her. Trying to make her feel old.

"You remember that?" Hank put to her, though. Even though it also didn't surprise him.

She shrugged. "It could hold like 150 CDs," she directed at Ethan instead.

"So like what? A hundred songs?" he teased.

"It was … a big deal," she argued at him and then gazed up at Hank again. "I still have it. It's at the townhouse."

He gave her a thin smile at that. Wasn't sure it was worth keeping. More dated than Camille's paperweight computer sitting on the den's desk. But her still having it said a lot too.

She rocked against the ladder a bit. "Then one year it was those …," she searched her mind for the phrase more than the gift. "Yeti boots," she let out a quiet laugh and looked up at him. "You remember those? Those furry boots." She looked at Ethan. "They looked like what Luke wears when he's on Hoth."

E scrunched up his face in complete disgust at that and Hank realized what Erin was talking about.

"Camille …" he said and shook his head. Cami had tried so hard to help Erin try to fit in with the fucking prissy white rich girlie girls at Ignatius. Hadn't worked. Can only hide what and who you are to a point. No matter how good you are at undercover.

Erin made a small sound of agreement. "I think the next Christmas was those skater sneakers. With the pink trim and laces," she gave him a big smile at that. "And a Roxy backpack. My skater-punk, Avril Lavigne phase."

"You outgrow that one yet?" he tossed down at her. And she gave the ladder a bit more purposeful rock. Gave him a look. But he allowed her a little smile.

Like his rough-and-tumble, independent, not-afraid-to-get-dirty tomboy a lot better than who his girl had tried to be to fit in during that first year or so anyway. And liked the woman that tough girl had grown into too. Frogs, snails, and puppy dog tails still yielded sugar and spice and a whole lot of spice. With time. The right amount of nurture. Learned that too.

"So basically Santa still brought you a present all through high school?" Ethan asked.

Erin shrugged. "Yea," she allowed. "I guess."

It was all just an illusion for her anyway. The whole time. Just something to keep up appearances with Justin still little and than E on the scene. To try to keep some of the magic going for the littler ones. And didn't really matter who they said the gift was 'from'. Erin knew. Clearly she appreciated. And it really was just a matter of what the kids wanted or needed that particular year and how they spread the budget around to cover off those bases.

"Why?" Erin put to her brother.

He fidgeted a bit. "I don't know. I thought maybe since I got like a big Santa gift last year and now being in high school that it was the last year his workshop made something or sent something or whatever."

Hank gazed down at him from up top. "Think what likely happened last year, bud, was that the adults in your life sent off a bit of a memo that deserved a gift that you'd been wanting for a long time."

Ethan allowed a little nod and shrugged.

"I mean, Santa doesn't have to give me a gift this year or anything," E said.

Hank eyed him from above. "Think as long as you believe, you receive something."

"Thirty-one and still get a stocking," Erin teased her brother gently.

"Yea," E acknowledged. "But there's not really anything I need."

There was a whole lot of fibbing in that statement. A half-truth. There was a long list of things Ethan needed. Hank had his own list that he kept picking away at with each pay check as he could. But knew what he was saying. None of that stuff really constituted a 'gift'. Least not the kind that a kid – a teenager – would want waiting for them under the tree on Christmas morning.

"Is there something you want?" Erin put to him.

"We don't do wish lists," he responded.

Erin shrugged at him. "Not asking you for a wish list. Just asking if there's something you want."

Ethan sat there for a bit. Moving between batting at H's efforts to turn the candy canes into a fire-house pole and Bear's efforts to turn them into a fire hydrant.

"A waffle maker," E finally suggested out of nowhere – looking over at him and Erin again expectantly.

"Awful maker," Henry mimicked.

"Awful maker is about right," Hank muttered and found his boy's eyes. "Santa's workshop makes toys. Not small kitchen appliances."

E looked at him seriously. "His workshop made an Xbox last year."

"Think Santa has Amazon contracted for those deliveries," he nodded at his son. E looked disappointed. "Ethan," Hank pressed more seriously, "the batter you can have, it wouldn't work in a waffle maker. It'd just be a big dog's breakfast."

"But then we could have waffles for breakfast," E tried. "Since we can't have French toast."

Hank sighed at him. "We'll have pancakes."

"And ham?" Ethan asked hopefully. So much came back to food with him. Because there was just so much he wasn't supposed to eat. To the point that sometimes Hank felt like it was impossible to keep him nourished. And like Ethan was always begging for food. Always thinking about food. And that pulled at him now. He didn't want to think about what it'd be like as the disease progressed and other parts of E's system didn't work as well. Where eating and what he could eat would become … more complicated.

"Sure," was all Hank shrugged at him, though. Because when E requested something that he was allowed – and was reasonably feasible to pull off – it got served.

"Why do we have turkey at Thanksgiving and Christmas?" the kid shifted subjects.

Hank shrugged and looked back to the lights. "Just what we settled into."

"What's that mean?" E asked.

He sighed – pulled from his work again and looked down at the kid. "Your Nonna and Nonno used to host Christmas Eve. So they did the whole Italian thing. Seven Fish meal."

E made another way. "Fish for Christmas?"

Hank just grunted. "And your Oma – my mom –"

"Would mom have been a Nonna or an Oma?" Ethan interrupted and he felt Erin stir at the question. More than it'd even struck him. Though there'd been a pang. But it'd been a pang he'd dealt with before. The little jerk that caused his feet to rock slightly made him think it was some kind of fresh gut-punch for Erin.

He looked down at her but she was just staring straight ahead between the steps of the ladder – into the brick wall in front of her.

"Think she likely would've gone with just Grandma or Nana," Hank provided.

"Likely Grandma," Erin muttered quietly and he looked down at her again.

HeE only nodded though. "So Oma …?" he asked. Apparently he remembered that they'd been in the middle of something else. A sign he was having an okay day. There was a train of thought going on in the kid. Was multitasking.

"Oma liked doing fish on Christmas too," Hank said. "Carp. But we weren't too big on having fish back-to-back. So talked my mom into doing this traditional goose thing instead. But turned out your mom wasn't a big fan of goose. Least not goose stuffed with chestnuts and cabbage."

E made a gagging noise at that.

Hank allowed a little smile. "Yea. That's about how she felt. So evolved into us taking over Christmas Day dinner and holding your Oma off to New Year's—"

"Pork on New Year's …," E said.

"Hmm …," Hank acknowledged.

"So it's basically tradition stuff," E said. "Like why you don't like the tree up until December sixth and the mom's nativity. And Krampus. Are we going to do Krampus for Henry?"

Hank snorted at that and looked at his kid and his little grandson. "Don't think we need to keep up that one," he said. Was surprised that E even remembered that. Hadn't really done anything around that since his mom had been gone.

"But J always said you were more of a Krampus than a Santa Claus," E provided.

Hank made a different noise and leaned against the ladder. He rested for a minute. Let himself process. Felt a different little pang and felt Erin looking up at him.

"Ethan," she said carefully but with this underlying sternness to it. This little speech tone that he knew she'd picked up on from Camille. "Your brother said a lot of things that don't need repeating. And he'd likely feel pretty awful if he knew they were being repeated now."

E gazed at her and then up at him. "I didn't mean nothing by it, Dad," he whispered.

Hank nodded. "I know," he said and lifted his arms to get back to work. "Any way. Turkey just was what me and your mom settled on. Easiest with having you kids underfoot."

It was an awkward segue. And it sat there in the air while Hank fiddled more with the lights. Managed to get them clipped as far as he could reach and then came down the steps. He dragged the ladder over several feet while Erin give him a look of pity that wasn't much better than the one the neighbors gave him these days. But he didn't meet her eyes for it. Didn't want to see it. Just collected the lights she'd been working on untangling and went back up the ladder.

"It's a lot of turkey and then turkey," Ethan said quietly.

Hank grunted some acknowledgement.

"So why don't we have ham for Christmas?" he asked.

Henry lit up at that. "Aam?!"

More of J in that boy. Ham. Bacon. Hot dogs. Sausage. Pork and nitrates and sodium. Top of Henry's list of favorites. Not that Olive was a fan of feeding him any of that shit. But all the more reason for Popa to make sure some of it was getting into him when he got grandpa afternoons.

"Could do ham," Hank allowed. "If that's what you want."

"With pineapple?" Ethan asked. "And sweet potatoes?"

Erin let out a little sound and stared at him. "I brought yams for today. So you'll get lots of sweet potato and sweet potato."

E just gave her a little grin and shrugged. Didn't bother the kid one bit. E pretty much lived on sweet potatoes anymore. Sweet potatoes, pineapple smoothies and almond butter. Not exactly the best diet. But it was what he'd eat.

"Is Jay going to do his mom's sweet potato casserole thing?" E asked.

Erin had made a sound at that. A more indistinguishable one. But distinguishable enough that Hank was pretty sure that it was a no. Heard that loud and clear.

"I was thinking I'd just bake them," she'd responded flatly.

E must've heard that too. Because he stared. Long and hard. And Erin must've felt that.

"What do you really want for Christmas?" she finally asked him. Trying to change the subjects.

E gazed at her and then gazed up at Hank. "To be allowed to stay in my pyjamas all day and to binge movies."

It hung there for a minute and Hank wished he'd reacted sooner to the so-very Ethan simplicity of the request. Because if he had reacted sooner his son wouldn't have said what he said next.

That, "Cuz maybe we need like some new traditions. Since we have other traditions still from after people are gone. And stuff."

And that hung there longer. Harder. A pang again. One that from the little shake in the ladder he knew Erin had felt too. And it'd rippled through her. Even though it was a memory — a moment — in the day he didn't want her to dwell on.

Just like he didn't want her to know how frequently her baby brother presented honest simplicity about his wants and needs — not just on silly Christmas wish list requests One life and death. How to-the-point he was about his own morality and his teen-aged, brain-damaged, drug-fogged understanding of what was to come.

Erin didn't need to know the promises E had coheres out of him. Among them that he'd be okay after he was gone. And how much Hank felt like he'd outright lied to his little boy's brave face.

But that morning, Hank just smiled and gave him a little nod. "Going to guess that Santa can likely manage to wrangle up something for those requests."

Because it sounded like a decent day to him. Hank hoped it sounded like a decent day to Erin too. Because it was those kinds of days they needed. It was those kinds of days that he wanted them to have and remember.

And it was those kinds of days that he wanted her to latch on to. To remember. To accept.

To just enjoy them. The quiet time of the now. Where it wasn't quiet because Ethan wasn't there. It was quiet because they were just getting that time to be together.

And to get to be together like that – they didn't need arguments or button-pushing.

Not with him. Not with Ethan. And not with Jay and whatever was going on between the two of them. Whatever it was that she wanted to talk about or get to. Because he didn't want to begin to speculate about what that might be when he could feel the tension lapping off the both of them. When he could see Jay's vacant look that day and for months at work.

Because he'd run out of advice for the two of them. He couldn't tell them how to deal with what they were going through. Or how to fix it. Just like he didn't know how to fix the mess with Ethan – he didn't know how to fix the mess that Jay and Erin had landed themselves in. He didn't know shit about managing long distance relationships. Not physical ones. And the most he could say anymore to either of them was – if this was important to them, if the other person was part of the life they wanted, then work on it. Make it work. Do they best they could. Because sometimes the other person knowing you were doing the best you would – you showing them you were trying your best – was all the information they needed. Sometimes it was enough. And if it wasn't … at least you knew then too.

Erin came into the front room and stared at the screen.

"Mr. Magoo?" she asked rhetorically.

Hank just grunted. Because he still didn't feel like talking. He just wanted to be in the moment. And if she felt like talking there was another person in the room she should be talking to. And talking together somewhere else.

But she still stared at Magoo.

"You want us to move him upstairs for you?" she asked.

He caught her eyes and smacked at that. Was perfectly capable of hauling his son's body weight – and dead weight – around.

"No," he provided.

She stared at him but gave a little nod and looked at Jay. "You ready to head out?"

He let out a noise and got up. They shared a little nod as he disappeared to get on boots and coat.

"Thanks for dinner …," Erin offered.

Hank grunted again.

"So … I'll come back by tomorrow …?"

He heard the question in it. But just grunted and looked back to the television. Because as much as he hoped she would be back by – he hoped she wouldn't. Because it'd been a good day. A decent day. And he'd rather her hold onto that than anything else that conversations and stress and tension of the weekend or the holidays or family gave way too.

Because it was all just too fucking complicated.

And really didn't need that to be a family tradition. Even though it was. But it didn't need to be one that got established and left in Ethan's wake for them to remember him by.

He wanted — he fucking needed — to have his family, what was left of it, to have more to remember, to stand by, to stand for, than all that.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **The chapter immediately before this (Mr Magoo) was posted earlier today. Please check to make sure you didn't miss it. This is a continuation of it.**

 **Also, the chapter, Selfish Decisions, was posted less than 24 hours ago. So yo might want to make sure that you saw it too. It is set after these two chapters that were posted today.**

 **A Jay POV is next, set after Selfish Decisions/his NYC trip.**

 **Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	11. Selfish Decisions

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 *****PLEASE NOTE: There were three updates in a less than 24 hour period. The two chapters immediately before this - Mr. Magoo and New Traditions - are new. Please make sure you didn't miss them. Reader numbers suggest a lot of you at least missed Mr. Magoo. This chapter has been reordered but was posted in the same 24 hour period as the other two so you may have missed it as well. A new chapter will be posted tomorrow (Friday) evening. ******

Jay sat there. On the couch. Staring at her and staring at her feet. And about the most coherent thought he'd been able to form was that her feet felt cold. Really fucking cold. He knew that somewhere in that he'd had the unconscious reaction to rub them. Only it wasn't really rubbing them. He just kind of kept clutching at them. Like holding them might somehow warm them up rather than just prove to him that they were still cold. But at least it was something to try to keep him rooted in that moment. To try to focus and to form some sort of coherent thought.

But there really wasn't any. All that he kept thinking about was that image on the ultrasound screen. It felt like it had been seared into his retina. Like he'd been staring unwisely at some sort of solar eclipse. And if he closed his eyes that image would still be there on the back of his eyelids. And in his ears all he could ear was the sound. The galloping and the swishing. And the technician's voice. Those words over and over again.

"I should move here." He wasn't sure he'd meant to say it. Not out loud. But amidst everything else that was running on repeat through his head – that was too. Over and over.

Erin's eyes rotated to his. She'd been staring at the television screen. Maybe they both had. But he didn't think they'd really been watching. He hadn't been watching. And they hadn't been talking. She looked nearly as dazed as he felt.

"That's not the plan," she said to him.

He stared at her. He tried to process that.

"So the plan is for me … what? Not to be a part of this?"

Her eyes stuck to his more directly. There was this thing behind them lately. Like she just had so much of this – life – figured out. Sorted out. And he'd suddenly become the one who was all blurry on everything. Maybe that's the way he felt too. Work. Life. This … it all just … it didn't make much sense anymore. He wasn't the person he wanted to be. Or who he'd seen himself as. Everything had become that grey that Mouse talked about. And Jay wasn't even sure it was entirely grey. Sometimes it all just felt dark. Black.

It felt like everything he'd spent the past eight years and then some working toward – working on, becoming – was just slipping away. That he was clinging onto some kind of fallacy and trying to push pieces together that just didn't make much sense. That he had a job that didn't want him. And a job that he wasn't even sure he knew how to do anymore. That he wasn't sure he could do anymore. If he was being honest himself.

And then there was this. Erin. The pregnancy.

Relationships. Family.

Love.

And old habits. That old person he was. That he hadn't wanted to be again. And maybe that shadow that he'd been letting himself get too close to. Maybe he was already in it. From the way people around him seemed to be seeing it.

He wasn't sure he saw it quite the same way.

But maybe he had to. Now. With this.

"You're going to quit your job and move to New York City?" Erin raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you going to do here?"

He fumbled for a moment. "There's jobs in New York," he provided.

She gave him a condescending look and then set it back on the television screen.

"The plan is for me to get back to Chicago," she said. "We don't need both of us trying to sort out work in the city. Or just unemployed."

"Okay," he pressed back at her – and apparently gripped her toes too tightly because she pulled them away from his touch. "Let's pretend you actually get things set up so you're back in Chicago in … seven months. What about now? What about the pregnancy?"

And she just shrugged. She just stared at the television in her own daze.

"Are you still … thinking about … aborting it?" he asked. He tried to ask it carefully. He tried to ask it casually. He tried not to interject an opinion into it. But he had them. But he also didn't know how to form them and get them out there in a way that wouldn't piss her off. "As an option?" he added on, like that made his intentions clearer or softer or not as demanding.

But he also didn't know how he wanted her to answer. He'd been trying to wrap his head around that. Since she'd told him. Trying to figure out what this meant and what it meant he needed to do and if he could even do that. If he could be that guy. And what being that guy meant.

There was this part of him that he hated – just fucking despised – that wanted her to say that she was going to get an abortion. That it was the only thing that made sense. Because timing. Just fucking timing. She was here. He was in Chicago. And the fucking shit storm with Ethan. And the huge fucking stuff with their relationship. And their jobs. Their fucking jobs. And the fucking house. And …

And then the fucking reality set in. The one where barely a year ago they'd talked about this. Not like skimmed it over in the 'how do you see your family' or 'do you want kids' or 'how many' kind of conversation. Real fucking conversations. A fucking series of conversations. And decisions. And process after … this had happened before. Only not this. Different than this. And still the timing. The miscarriage.

But then - like ten months ago – the answer was 'yes'. His answer was 'yes'. Yes, he wanted them to be a couple. Yes, he wanted to get married. Yes, he wanted to be a father then. After years of not wanting to be. But, yes – YES – he'd do it with her. He'd father her – their kids. That they'd make their own fucked up family in their own fucked up ways. And it'd be okay. They'd make it work. They'd figure it out. It'd work out. Yes. Yes. And yes.

But he wasn't that guy anymore. He wasn't. And this was just ramping into his psyche how much he wasn't. And that hurt.

There was this part of him that wanted to be that guy. Still. To go back to being that guy. The guy who wanted marriage. To her. And family. The guy who felt ready to be a father. Who thought he could do it. Knew he could fucking do it.

The guy who'd worked on his recovery enough that he thought he had it under control. That he was ready to move up and on with his life. To make his own fucking life. To make it real. To not just cling to shit to keep him a float. To distract himself. To fill those holes.

That he was actually building a life.

But then that stopped. Then there'd been all these fucking cracks in the foundation. And they just got bigger and bigger. And he couldn't blame that all on Erin. He couldn't blame it all on Bunny. He couldn't blame it on Hank. Or Ethan being sick. Or the job.

It was him.

He'd contributed to it too. He'd let the cracks get bigger rather than working on trying to fix them. And the minor repairs he'd tried – he'd gotten fucking lazy about them since … the summer. And then he just fell into old habits. This patch-work effort to try to fill the cracks. A shoddy job.

And he was paying for it now. Erin was too. And bringing more human life into the world?

He didn't know he was ready to be a father. Not right now. Not like this.

So maybe … this … him … couldn't be an option.

"No," she said quietly and shifted her eyes back to his. "Not after today." She shook her head and shrugged weakly all at the same time. "Maybe not after the weekend. I don't know. But I'm doing this."

And he stared. He waited. He tried to figure out what to say or do. To come up with some analogy. To draw on some life experience. Or something off PBS. Something he'd read in the Sunday Times Tribune. Or New Yorker magazine. Or off the fucking internet.

But he came up with nothing.

Just a feeling. A guilt. Because Erin seemed so to the point on this. On point on this. Just calm. And sure. So much calmer and surer than he felt. Even when he tried to read her. But he was out of practice. And he'd done too much to numb himself. To not have to see or feel. To try to just act. But no act. To depend on muscle memory. And hope that was enough.

But right now it wasn't. And on the job it wasn't. Not the way he'd like. Because muscle memory meant you had to tap into other memories. Ones he didn't want.

The ones he was still trying to hide from now. To bury down. And repress. And just not have to think about.

And what did that say about him either? How fucking selfish was that too?

Because Erin … she wasn't in an ideal situation either. This wasn't his ideal. Or hers. Or theirs. This was just a fucking mess.

Because Erin … she had her own fucking baggage. She had … Bunny. She had years of thinking she didn't want to be a mother because she didn't want to be Bunny. She didn't want to risk it. That that was the maternal instinct that would come out of her.

Because Erin had been so sure that she didn't want kids that in some of their previous more honest conversations – when they actually almost knew how to talk to each other – she said she thought she might want to adopt if she did have kids. To not start out with a baby. To give a child a fighting chance. Like Hank and Camille had done for her.

Because Erin had said again after the miscarriage that she didn't know when – or if – she'd ever want to purposely have a baby. To get pregnant. Because it'd been too much. It'd hurt too much. And been too confusing. And she felt like it was a sign – that she wasn't meant for motherhood or parenthood. Not in that way. And it'd been him who slowly worked at chipping away at that as they tried to work through all sorts of things that the miscarriage brought up for them as people and individuals and cops and a couple.

Because Erin hadn't really wanted to play house. Because Erin was still learning what family was and what blood was and what nature and nurture was. And she had also sorts of feelings around that.

Because Erin had the job. Erin was the job. And she'd put her career ahead of any supposed interest in having a family of her own. Of any trust she was going to give to a man to sacrifice some of her independence to compromise in a marriage.

But now she didn't have that job. She wasn't the job anymore. And Jay could see and feel that. She'd changed. It'd changed her. Working for the District Attorney. Working on a cross-jurisdictional case. Getting pulled more into the legal aspect and the investigation aspect and the interrogation and paperwork and court-room testimony aspect. In sitting behind a desk and interrogation rooms more than she spent in cold cars on stakeouts or pretending to be something she wasn't undercover.

And a different person had emerged in all that. And he liked her – Jay was proud of her – but sometimes he wasn't sure if he knew her anymore.

If he knew this person who had a calm self-assurance about all this. Despite her location and her job and a sick little brother and the timing. Despite what this would do to her mentally and physically and emotionally. Despite the role he'd played in doing this to her – in getting her here. And what role he would – or wouldn't be allowed – to play going forward.

But she was just … she wasn't in a hole. The hole that he felt like he must be in now. Worse than he thought or knew. And even more hurtful because he knew – he'd come to realize – that he only knew how to deal with Erin, to relate to her, when she was in a hole. That he wanted to be that guy – the hero – pulling her out of the hole. Even though she didn't have the time for men to be her 'hero'. She didn't want that. And now, he wasn't really sure she needed that.

But he did.

He did more than he knew. Or more than he had wanted to admit.

And that scared him too.

It made him feel so full of guilt. But there was also a relief.

Because he was glad she said that she didn't want to talk about an abortion. That she didn't see it as an option. Because he didn't want that either. Even though so much of this felt … foreign. Just fucking … terrifying. The concept of destroying something they'd made seemed … worse. Scarier.

Because they'd already torn down so much. They were already trying to repair so much. And he didn't know if they could. Or how.

He did know it wouldn't be the same. Whatever it was. Because she wasn't her anymore. And he wasn't him. And if there were more people than them added to this equation … he wasn't sure what that made them. Family.

A fucked up messy family from the get. And he'd thought he'd do better than that for his kids. Or he'd thought he wouldn't do it at all. But now … they were going to have to work something out.

Something out where they weren't friends raising children. That he wasn't casually fucking the mother of his children when he dropped them off after having custody of them every second weekend. Something were he wasn't a child support check.

And something where he wasn't one of those cops. Or one of those vets. Or one of those soldiers. Where the kids didn't know you. And where the mother despised you and felt sorry for you all in the same moment.

Something where he wasn't one of those men. Those fathers. His father.

And he wasn't entirely sure how to get to that. He didn't think there was a documentary he could watch about that. Or a newspaper article. Or self-help book.

That maybe the best he'd have was the guys in his support group – if he kept going back. And listening to them lay out what they were screwing up and how it was screwing them up. And that Jay couldn't decide if it was helping him or hurting him going and sitting in that circle in that basement with no windows and broken fucking men. Getting advice on how to function as a father – a provider – with PTSD, working in a job where you still shot little girls and those above you policed your ever move more than they policed the city.

A job that you didn't know you'd still have – or if you even wanted to have – by the time this other human being, this piece of yourself, started breathing the same air as you. Living in the same world as you. And he didn't know – he knew – that he didn't want his kids to know the person he was in that moment. He didn't want himself to be a part of that world they'd know.

But he didn't want Erin to get an abortion. So that meant … something had to change.

He had to change.

Again.

Only he could hardly remember how he managed that last time. And the ways he pinpointed – he couldn't use now. Because now was different. And he was different.

And this was so fucking different.

"What if there's … a medical emergency or something?" he asked and then quickly added, "I should be here."

"You'll be on the next plane," she put flatly.

Jay sighed and eyed her. "Aren't you supposed to talk to babies or whatever so they know you?"

She gave him a slightly teasing smile at that – but at least it was a smile – and she pressed her foot back into his thigh, a playful little kick.

"You see that in a documentary?"

He raised his eyebrow at her. "It's common knowledge."

"Is it?" she put back to him, raising her eyebrow right back at him.

"It is known," he pressed and shifted slightly on the couch – up to nearly her knees draped over his lap – and he touched at abdomen and pelvis, where he's watched the technician run the scanner across her until they got told that an internal scan was necessary. A request that caused Erin to squeeze his hand and continue to squeeze until the gallops of a fetus' heartbeat came through.

"I should be around to talk to them," he said, keeping his hand in place and hers coming up over top of his. "So they know my voice."

"They'll know you," she assured and laced her fingers into his.

He held on to it. He held onto her hand until he realized he'd squeezed her knuckles white and he forced himself to loosen his hold.

"How are we going to do this?" he asked.

She shook her head at him. "I don't know yet. We've got a few days to try to figure it out. At least the now. Got half a year to work on the rest of it."

"See, six-months. That's a good number. Good contract length. I could find some—"

It was her who squeezed his hand hard that time. "Jay, no," she told him firmly. "You need to work on you. You need to work on getting the house ready for us. … at least for at the start. And you need to work. One of us needs to know we're going to have an income still there. I need you there watching Eth and Hank for me too."

"Are …," he stopped and sighed, holding onto her hand again. "When are you going to tell Hank?"

She settled his hand back over the little bump that was already growing there. This fucking visible reminder that … they'd made something together. That it was theirs. It was real.

"Not yet," she said quietly. "I want to get through the first trimester. Passed the point from …"

"Yea …," Jay acknowledged and shifted off the baby bump to hold her hand again. "He's going to know something's up."

Erin shrugged. Jay knew she hadn't had any alcohol or coffee on the weekend. He knew Hank would've clocked that. But he wasn't sure how he would've read it. Or how he'd be reading it now. Now that he went and told him he wanted to take a week's leave. Out of nowhere. Or not. Because it was after the U.C. And maybe Voight thought he needed the time too. But he wasn't sure that's what the leave was about. But maybe it was.

Even though it wasn't.

And he wasn't sure he wanted to know what Hank thought – or would think – about any of this. Jay wasn't sure he was in a spot to be able to keep quite about the look or the commentary that might come.

Things he already knew. Timing. Unmarried. Playing house. Time. Work. Job. Money. Distance. Family. Relationships. Love. Parenthood.

It was all categories that Hank – and Voight – had a lot of opinions on. And Jay just wasn't in a spot yet where he was ready to hear anyone's opinion about much of anything.

Because he was fine. Even though he knew he wasn't.

"I'm going to be worrying about you guys all the time," Jay told her. Because this was feeling more like these were just more people who'd been left behind – and ones he was leaving behind. The ones he'd have to look in the eyes on occasion. And he knew he didn't want that either.

But Erin just shook her head at him. "You won't," she said, "because I just gave you a list of distractions – that aren't drinking or video games. And when you've got too much time on your hands that those distractions aren't filling the holes up, you're going to get on a plane. So you can do whatever fatherly pregnancy duties your Googling has told you are a necessity for our well-being. Talking to my belly or whatever."

He rubbed his thumb over the little bump again. "I think I'm basically supposed to get you ice cream and pickles, tell you you aren't fat, and help you deal with pregnancy hormone horniness."

She raised her eyebrow again. "So far, pretty sure number one and number three on that list are just myths."

He rubbed his thumb again. "The doctor said it'd get better after the first trimester," he offered. "Soon …"

She made a sound that wasn't anything resembling agreement and her eyes went back to staring at the television.

"I can seriously go and get us something to eat," he offered. "Are you hungry?"

She glanced at him. "There's a place a couple blocks over that only serves oatmeal. Dinner oatmeal. With bacon. And cheese."

He gave her a look. "So your exchanging ice cream and pickles for bacon-cheese oatmeal?"

She made a sound and went back to staring at the screen and processing her own thoughts. "No," she said. "I just … fucking hate New York. I miss Chicago."

He let his hand fall away from the bump and find her hand again.

"It misses you too," he said, giving it a squeeze.

It did – he did – and he didn't know what it … he'd … do without her. Now. And in barely seven months. If they still didn't know their plan yet.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 *****PLEASE NOTE: There were three updates in a less than 24 hour period. The two chapters immediately before this - Mr. Magoo and New Traditions - are new. Please make sure you didn't miss them. Reader numbers suggest a lot of you at least missed Mr. Magoo. This chapter has been reordered but was posted in the same 24 hour period as the other two so you may have missed it as well. A new chapter will be posted tomorrow (Friday) evening. It is an Erin POV chapter set after this but before Christmas.******

 **OK. So the next chapter(s) I do will likely be a split scene doing a Jay POV and a Hank POV.**

 **I might backtrack then and do an Erin/Hank (and Ethan) scene or two from while she was home at Thanksgiving.**

 **And then I'll likely do a couple scenes around her being home at Christmas.**

 **Your readership, comments, feedback and reviews are appreciated.**


	12. Farewell Bash

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin gazed at Hank as she came back down the stairs. He was sitting with Camille's memory box on his lap – photos in hand, staring in a stalled flip.

Erin allowed a little smile. She hadn't seen him with that box out for a while. But she also wasn't around much. She knew that. But before – usually – it'd make her a little sad when she saw him with that box. Because she knew it meant he was struggling that particular day. Not that he usually told her the details of what – memory or thought, however passing – had sent him to pull out that box on a particular day when when she'd caught him with it in the past. But it being out was usually sign enough. Something had triggered him that day.

But that day – that particular day – she knew exactly what it was. And she thought she knew exactly when he'd been drawn to the box to look for while she was upstairs with her little brother. And that day, it didn't make her sad to see him with the box or the pictures. It didn't make her speculate on what his state of mind might be. She'd been with him all morning to have a pretty good idea of exactly what kind of state of mind she was. She was in a similar one, she suspected. And she kind of wanted to look at the photo she suspected he was staring at too.

Hank glanced at her as she came into the room and shuffled into his space, leaning against the arm rest of the couch to gaze at the photos too. He tilted it for her to see. And she smiled a little more. It was what she suspected. Exactly. Or as near as exactly as she could remember it. A moment in time that some twelve or more years ago had just seemed like a day – another passing moment – that maybe didn't hold too much weight then. But it did now. And she knew too that the day – for whatever reason – had held some sort of weight with Camille – some kind of memory or meaning – because that picture had ended up filled away with a collection of her favorites to look back on. A memory box that likely was more treasured now and looked at much more frequently now – however painful – than maybe it would've been in … very different circumstances.

The photo: Them – her family – what felt like forever ago. But still – way back then – once again standing in front of Sue in the Field Museum's main hall. The same as they – what was left of them – had been that morning.

They were smiling for the camera. Ethan just a toddler propped up on Hank's hip and staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the Trex – rather than at the camera. As usual. Pointing at Sue with the same enthusiasm then as he did now. The same as Erin suspected he would right up to the end. Until he was grown-up – as a grown-up – or otherwise … if that was the fate life had them … him … hurdling toward.

Camille was clearly interacting with Ethan. Likely bestowing some kind of educational moment on him. Or maybe she was just trying to get him to look at the camera rather than the dinosaur – for all of two seconds. Still an impossible task even back then.

Hank's free arm was around her shoulder. He had her pulled close – held close and tight – the family. Not letting her just linger on the outskirts. While Justin was huddled bashfully into the front-and-center of the family. Arms crossed and all eyebrows with his cockeyed smile that betrayed the pre-teen was enjoying himself.

Erin couldn't pinpoint the exact reason they'd have been there. All together. But she knew the photo had likely been taken and saved for a reason. Maybe just because they were all there and together. Something that became increasingly less frequent for those kinds of outings by the time Ethan was a toddler and preschooler. Her through high school and working and doing night school and ride-alongs and bidding her time until she could apply to the Academy. Justin trying to act the part of a full-on teenager and in high school.

Family outings where it was all of them didn't happen as frequently. Not with life getting in the way maybe more than they should've let it. At least for those kinds of moments. But she knew that happened. People get busy. When you're a teenager or in your twenties or trying to be an adult and a grown-up and independent – maybe you didn't make the time for family as much as you should. Maybe you thought there were more important things. Or maybe it was you just didn't have a real concept of time yet. And just how fleeting it really was … in the end.

Though, Erin knew that Camille took Eth to the various museums and the aquarium every chance she got. So she did at least know that the photo wasn't likely taken to capture his first time seeing Sue. It wouldn't be his first photo with Sue – or his last. Camille seemed to take one every time they were in the place. That dinosaur had become Ethan's own personal growth chart. Snaps chronicling him slowing looking bigger and bigger in front of the fossil. Though, somehow even though Hank seemed to send her off a picture near monthly – if not weekly – of her baby brother still in front of the thing and still smiling about being there, it usually felt more now like he as shrinking next to it. Not sprouting taller and bigger and stronger in front of Sue like a teenaged boy should be.

Erin suspected the real reason the had landed in Camille's memory box was really just because it was all of them. That it was likely the first time they'd all been there together to see Ethan's wide-eyed glee at the dinosaur. And for Camille to do her speciality – her little speeches and lectures. Her knack for turning everything into some sort of educational moment. The more you know …

And Erin knew that.

She tried for a little smile – but she wasn't sure she managed to pull it off. But Hank wasn't looking at her, and that was probably a good thing. Though, she still squeezed his elbow in a silent show of support. He wasn't alone in the photo. And he wasn't alone now. Not any of them.

"We all look like babies …," she commented. Because they did. They all looked like different people. Younger. Happier. Fuller somehow…

He allowed a little grunt and gave the photo another thin smile. A sad smile.

Hank reached for his phone and flashed another photo at her. The one from that day which didn't look so different from the one those twelve years ago. Only it was. Because there were differences – glaring ones – amidst the similarities.

Now it was Henry up on Hank's hip. And it was Hank's little grandson – Justin's son – now looking up at Sue with a similar wide-eyed awe as Ethan had those years ago. Ethan had taken Justin's positioning in the photo. Her baby brother standing front-and-center. And her baby brother – now almost the same age as Justin would've been in that old photo – standing with similar quiet confidence and smugness painted across his face. Taking the position – and a near mirrored stance – as his brother had those years ago too. And not as unlike Justin as her other brother might've thought. She could see so much of Justin in Ethan. And Camille and Hank. And she wanted to see herself too. She knew it was in there. The same way as she knew – she'd come to accept – that Hank and Camille were in her too. Even though their genes weren't. They bleed in a different way for her. She still had come to carry their blood, sweat and tears. That how'd they made her. And what they'd passed on to her. What she'd passed on to her brothers. To her nephew now. And what she'd make sure got passed onto her children – maybe even more than her genes.

In that day's photo Hank's free arm was still tossed around her shoulder. Still holding her close and tight. Still keeping her pulled into the family. And she hadn't put up any fight about pulling away – backing away – from it that day. About wanting to be on the outskirts. Wanting her own space or independence. Because you didn't need that when it was family. Not in the way she'd thought previously. But it'd taken … time … for her to accept that and learn it. And it'd had to be the hard way. But at least she'd come to that conclusion – acceptance – while there was still time.

They'd all still managed smiles for Olive's camera that morning even though they looked a little sadder than before. And they weren't the babies from the photo those years ago. They all looked a little older and weighed down with the weight of life and history and experience. And the lessons it'd brought.

"Flip through," Hank grunted at her, shuffling through Camille's printed photos instead, examining each one carefully. "Olive sent a bunch."

Erin nodded and moved around him, sitting next to him on the couch and pulling her knees up to herself as she flipped to the next one.

Their little family didn't look quite so sparse in that one. It wasn't' quite as noticeable that people were missing. Or at least, if it was, it was notable that others had been added. Olive and Jay in the mix. And Santa in the next. The red-suited and bearded man causing a more unsure look of contention to seep off Henry than his photo with the giant fossil with pointy, gnashing teeth.

Breakfast with Sue. A Christmas fundraiser at Field for museum members. A membership fee that Hank had decreed as one of the better investments of his life. He had Ethan over there constantly. She suspected he had Henry over nearly as much. Maybe Olive did too. It wasn't far. From the condo. She could walk over with Henry if she wanted. To most of the museums. Something that Camille would likely love to know was an option for her grandson. That it could be a part of his life. Like she'd tried to include that sort of thing in their lives.

That Hank was trying to too. Hence the museum membership. And even though he grumbled about it on occasion – the drive, the parking, the same exhibits over and over again, the tourists – she knew that he and Ethan and his grandson had definitely enjoyed some of the perks that came along with membership too. Like this big farewell to Sue.

Though Erin wasn't sure she liked that the brunch had received that label. Not when it was something that Ethan had begged to go to – and to take Henry to. Not when he lamented that Sue was being moved and modernized. Not when it'd be months and months before Sue was set up in her new spot in the Evolving Planet exhibit hall.

Because that was just time again. And time that Erin knew they'd spend the rest of Ethan's time with them fearing they didn't have. Because they weren't likely going to really know until there wasn't much time left. It'd just be this state of limbo for the coming months … or years.

And that made her fear that for Sue's farewell bash – it wasn't just the dinosaur they were saying goodbye to. Or who was really saying their goodbyes to who – or what.

But even thinking that – again – stung Erin's eyes.

Erin had told Hank that Ethan was too pissed off about Field getting a "boring, stupid, and completely redundant" herbivore for its main hall – especially when he'd pointed out to her, "It's like we're just trying to be like New York and who wants to be like New York?" – to not be around to express his complete displeasure at the unveiling of the new fossil. He was going to need – want – to be present at the welcome party for the titanosaur.

So Erin – was convincing herself – that she was pretty sure that that was argument enough to ensure in some made-up reality that Ethan was at least around for another year or two. Maybe longer so he could mount a campaign to have Sue moved back to the main hall. Let New York have its herbivore. Chicago deserved the king of the dinosaurs. Which Erin wasn't convinced either that the "king of the dinosaurs" (or queen) was a title that belonged to Sue either. Not in their family.

Field hadn't named the patagotitan mayorum that was taking the Trex's spot yet. But they were letting members put name suggestions (that Erin was pretty sure were all going to get ignored) into a box at the farewell bash. She'd gone and written 'Ethan' down – and made Jay do the same. Partially because she couldn't think of a bigger dinosaur titan than her little brother. And partially because she knew that the thing being named after him would just piss him off to no end. And that would keep him around for a while too. He'd have to resolve that catastrophe.

But, really, there was another part of her (that she didn't want to delve too far into either) that thought if they picked the name – her brother's name - and it stuck – it'd be a good memorial to her baby brother. Though, she suspected it'd make it that much harder to ever set foot in Field again – more than it already was going to be at some point in the future.

Another thing she didn't want to think about. It made her eyes sting more. So she just kept flipping through the photos that Olive had already sent through to Hank.

"She's getting really good …" Erin had commented.

And she was. Erin already knew that. More and more of Olive's photos were appearing in the house. Olive was sending her others. Little captured moments of Henry and Ethan – and often Hank with the two of them. The kind of photos that as beautiful as they were – they never seemed to make it much easier being away.

But this set … she might ask Olive to send them to her too. Or to print them out, if she was going to for Hank already. Because the day was what it was. Because they looked like a family in it. They looked ridiculously like a family in it.

She was sure that some casual onlookers at the event might've thought they'd tried to dress all matchy-matchy for the day. But really it was that none of them had kind of fashion sense. That they all just dressed like working-class people. They dressed like Chicago. The real Chicago. The city – that though it always had money and that power and influence seep into parts of it more and more, as it gentrified more and more even when it didn't or couldn't seem to figure out how – was built on the backs of the working class. And that still made it her kind of town.

So much more than New York. Where she still didn't feel comfortable in her own skin. Where she didn't feel comfortable in her surroundings. She never entirely felt like she quite blended in. That the riches – and education and culture – of the city seemed to seep out of it in a different and almost condescending way.

It always made her feel like she was still playing dress-up. That she wasn't seen as a street kid who'd somehow found her way into an office tower. But she was seen as some sort of country mouse. That it sometimes felt like she was back at Iggy's and crafting a story about who she was and why she was there. One that she hoped wasn't fiction. Because she tried to be open about her plans. She was trying to network – and put in the work – to make them reality.

But she also felt so much like she was living undercover still. Even though she wasn't. But that New York was forcing things out of her that weren't her. She couldn't be herself. She never really entirely felt like herself. And there was always a longing for home. And for family. And for all the things she acknowledged her time in that other city was doing for her – how it was helping her – it also just wasn't her. It wasn't her kind of town. And it wasn't how – or where – she wanted to live. Where she wanted to make her life. Spend her time.

She wanted her time her. She wanted moments like in Olive's photos. She wanted those to be her reality. Her daily reality. That consistent – frequent – reminders that even amidst all the sadness and stress and guilt and grief they were dealing with there were moments of laughter. And real happiness.

That they were a family. They had family moments. And they were making it work.

This photographic evidence. These shots of of her with Henry and her with Ethan and her with Hank. And her with Jay.

There was one that if her and Jay did make this work. If they got back to their engagement being real – and marriage being in the offing – that it could be an engagement photo. One they got framed. Or sent to whoever you send that sort of thing to.

They were sitting waiting for their table to get called to go up to the brunch buffet. They were huddled in some sort of tete-a-tete. Her elbows on the table and hands pulled up and clutched – perfectly showing off the engagement ring. The one even though things were so uncertain and so much of a struggle , she now got to wear every day. And she did. To reminder her again of what she was working toward – and the things she still needed to work on. To remind her of him – the him he was and who he was now. And so he knew – he could see – that she was still in his corner. That she still believed in him. She still loved him. And she was still willing to keep working on this – to work on it with him. If that's what he still wanted. If that's what he could manage. Not just because he was a good guy – but because he wanted it too. He wanted moments like in that photo to be a daily reality too. Them next to each other – surrounded by family – but alone in their private world, their private joke. Their own moment amidst the chaos.

Erin couldn't pinpoint when Olive had snapped the shutter to capture that moment. But she didn't need to. She could see that Jay had whispered some sort of sassy joke to her. And it hadn't just earned him a smile. It'd earned him a laugh, which had made him smile. The little boy grin that she had fallen in love with. The softer parts of the hardened man.

Softer still was a photo Olive had captured of Jay with Henry. Henry straddling Jay's lap and facing him. Their hands and fingers locked in a mercy war. One that Jay was letting Henry win all the while swirling their hands around to the rhythm of the holiday music they had playing over the speakers in the hall. Henry was completely oblivious to any tension that existed between Jay and Justin or Jay's previous dislike and distrust of Olive.

This was just "Un-call Day". Someone to be silly with and to play with and to by in a fit of giggles with at the table while "Un-call Day" stuck his tongue at him teasingly – almost letting him win – only to swirl his little arms around again. Again and again until Jay finally did let Henry win the wrestle war, sputtering out "mercy, mercy, mercy" that got an "I win! I win!" out of Henry. Only for him to push in some sort of toddler CPR against Jay's chest when he pretended to slump against Henry's overwhelming power. "You toe-kay," Henry had told Jay. "You a win-are too." And he'd planted a sloppy wish against Jay's face – causing him to bolt straight, suddenly revived and to tickle the little boy even more.

And it was just a quiet moment of play where Erin knew that if Jay found it in himself – he could do this. He could more than do this. Because right now she knew he was struggling and he still needed time to settle into this. To keep on working on himself. To have confident in himself. But she could tell he was trying.

She knew he was flailing a bit. That he was under stress. Both between them and on the job. That IA was coming at him again in a period of months. That he was teetering constantly on an edge of the PTSD getting the upper-hand in his daily life. But he was trying so fucking hard.

And she could hear that in his voice. And she could see it in him that weekend. That he was there and he was present even though he wasn't entirely there. But he was trying. To be there for her. And for Ethan. And for the family.

And being there – making that decision and commitment to be there – that was a huge part of it. Of love. And a relationship. And a family. And he could do that.

He could be the kind of father a child needed and deserved. That their children would need. The kind they deserved. That despite how broken and inadequate and scared he might feel – he had it in him. To be good at this. To be giving and kind and sacrificing and forgiving. To be able to make others smile and laugh despite his own pain and despite theirs too. To just be there. For the big moments and for the little moments. To make it easier.

And Jay deserved all that as much as a child did too. And he could have it. Not because it was the 'good guy' route he should take because it was what a 'man' did.. But because he was a good guy. And he was a real man. No matter his baggage or his scars and what he felt they made him.

Erin could see him for what he was. And she thought others – in their family – could too.

There was another photo her and Jay had Henry over looking at the diorama of the lions. Olive must've been watching from a distance. She'd caught them being silly and captured it. Her and Jay roaring at lions and encouraging Henry to do the same. The three of them caught in wide-mouth screams masked as laughs.

Erin wasn't sure if Olive had caught the other moment – a few minutes later – when Jay had scooped up Henry and held him like the baby Lion King. Presenting him to the pride – and her.

"Hakuna matata," he'd quipped at her. "No worries for the rest of the day."

And as soon as he'd released Henry and he'd charged back over to Olive and Hank and Ethan, the little boy had told his mom, "Kunga Mama!" Olive had given him a funny look that Erin almost wish she'd been as good – as practiced at taking photos as Olive, or as committed as Camille was those years ago – because she would't liked to capture the funnier look on Olive's face when Henry had parroted to her: "No war-are-es toe-day, Kunga Mama!"

And it was a day where maybe for a few hours they did – or at least they tried – to have no worries.

Her and Hank guiding Henry and Ethan down the buffet line, trying to manage their own plates and the boys. Hank trying to help Ethan with the tongs while he snatched up enough bacon to feed the whole table – when Erin didn't think he actually had any intention of doing that when he deposited the mound on his plate. Her trying to pick out some croissants and muffins for everyone while Henry peeks over the table's edge – eyes and chubby fingers set on the 'pinkle cookies.

Ethan holding up a slice of cantaloupe in front of his face at breakfast like a wide grin – barely hiding the one that was actually painted on his face.

Her and Ethan gazing up in some sort of dazed awe at one of the fifty towering Christmas trees set up in the massive hall. Each and every one twinkling with lights and decorations from a different cultural group or community organization from around the city – and the world. A display she wasn't sure she'd seen before and one that Ethan had been utterly transfixed by. Because Ethan and anything to do with colourful, sparkling, twinkling lights. Ethan and his love of Christmas trees and Christmas lights and fireworks – especially fireworks in winter, he'd told her. "They're way better. They go up waaay higher. It's true. It's science."

She'd made sure to not ask the science behind it – even though she kind of wondered. But she knew it would've been an extended explanation. Just like another photo of him having her and Henry trapped at one of the touch-tables that he usually got to man during his volunteer hours at Field. And where despite him being there as a guest that Saturday morning, he'd still completely taken over for the high school kid at the display – giving her, Henry and everyone else there – their own personal presentation.

Popa and Henry putting in quiet time at the craft table – letting everyone else look at the exhibit hall they were in but also Hank showing his tenderer side. Crouched down next to his grandson with a crayon gripped in his hand while Henry scribbled feverishly next to him.

Ethan with his face near pressed against the glass at the fossil prep lab getting his first look at the gastralia that was scheduled to added to Sue. The whole purpose for her move.

Her leaning against railings with Jay in conversation presumably about the Egyptian mummies they were standing in front of. But with the teasing look on Jay's face Erin knew that Olive had likely captured something a little more special than a debate about the display. Though, Jay had made some comment about ancient history of crazy cat ladies when he'd spotted the signage about the mummified cat on display. And the marketability of that as a documentary on PBS. Or at least NPR.

And Hank sitting at breakfast and cutting up sausage and pancakes. His son was on one side of him and his grandson on the other. And Erin didn't know for sure who's plate he was working on. Though she knew it wasn't his own and she suspected it was Ethan's. But there was no look on his face other than focus on the task at hand. It was just another moment of quiet patience and even dignity that he approached the whole situation. This calmness and stillness that Erin had seen set over him since the summer – in that hospital room. One that had stayed with him it seemed in all things Ethan.

It was so different than their other losses. His knee-jerk reactions and his need for revenge and justice. His way and his own rules and own code. But maybe it was different. Because this wasn't sudden loss. This was a slow burn where they were watching it in the distance come closer and closer and they couldn't judge how fast it was coming.

But Erin knew she wanted to – she wished she could – emulate that calmness and patience and dignity. That maybe it was another lesson Hank was teaching her. Maybe it was something that had taken him a while to learn too. And maybe he'd had to learn it the hard way.

Maybe they all were. But she knew it was something they could learn from.

That they could learn from these little moments. As a family – as people. And looking so exactly like that. Like that and more. Better and more functional and happy and calm than many of the others around them that morning.

And that sense of family – of normalcy for themselves and in the eyes of others - was something Erin wanted to hold on to during all of this too. Maybe it was something she wanted – or needed – hardcopies of. Not just the memories. Something to put into a box like that one of Camille's.

Hank just grunted again at her comment about Olive's developing talent, though. And, he leaned forward to put the box on the coffee table and the pictures back inside.

"He go down for a nap?" Hank rasped with a jut of his chin in the general direction of Ethan's room.

Erin shook her head, handing his phone and the digital photos back to him.

"He's avoiding a nap by trying to make it look like he's attempting some homework," she said.

Hank made a sound of mild annoyance at that. "Better get some rest if he thinks we're doing the tree tonight."

Erin gave him a thin smile. "He's resting," she assured. "He was listening to his music. Reorganizing his dinosaur collection. Again."

Hank allowed a quiet sound of amused acknowledgement. "Have to see if Santa can find a Titanosaur for his stocking," he smacked.

"Oh, he'd love that," Erin raised an eyebrow at him. But she knew the delivery would carry an entertainment value for the rest of them on Christmas morning too. Ethan would go off on another motor-mouth without a filter … if he was having an okay day on the twenty-fifth.

The comment. got another sound of amused acknowledgement. "Would more than he lets on," Hank said. And he was right. It might not be Ethan's dinosaur of choice – but a dinosaur was a dinosaur when you got down to it. You could only go so wrong when it came to Ethan and dinosaurs.

She gave him a thin smile. "Should've checked the gift shop," she suggested.

And she actually had. Or at least she'd wandered over to the Christmas kiosks they had set up. Full of novelties and ornaments that seemed to specialize in melding dinosaurs with Santa.

It'd been a ugly Christmas sweater that had drawn her over. A bad memory. A blow up that Hank and Ethan had had the previous year when Ethan had wanted an ugly sweater for school. To fit in. A purchase that Hank refused to spend his money on and one that he had outright said no to Eth spending his allowance on. Because it was a waste of money. A ludicrous one-time purchase item. Something that maybe then Hank had felt he'd outgrow by this year. But that Erin suspected with how things had gone likely would've still fit him.

She hadn't bought the sweater, though. Because, Hank was right, the price tag on it wasn't worth the novelty. Though, she had looked at some of the other items. She'd had an ornament in her hand to buy him. But had put it back. Because she'd had this sudden realization that had knocked the wind out of her over at the table.

The reality that anything they bought Ethan now was really just collecting artifacts for an exhibit in her brother's memory. That they were just adding to a museum that was already going to be hard to look at. Items that were going to be impossible to sort through and get rid of. And the displays to Camille and Justin would grow to include Ethan. And she didn't know how – she didn't want – to contribute to that.

She didn't know how Hank could continue to live in that. How he could keep adding ot it. How he could maintain it in the future. And she'd realized to in that moment that there was going to be a point that she'd have to work on convincing Hank to move. For his own sanity. For he wasn't just a curator. There was going to be a point he had to move – move on. They all would. And that twisted her insides.

But the suggestion of a gift shop – that she was actually glad he hadn't entered - got a grunt and a dismissive gesture. "Charge like you're actually getting an authentic fossil there."

And Erin settled against the back of the couch and allowed a little smile but a raised eyebrow. Because that was easier right now. Because he could be such a tight-wad when he wanted to be. And then so altruistically giving of himself, his time and his money the next moment. He spotted the amusement in her look and gave it a little smack. But it passed quickly.

"Glad you got back out here for it," he said and reached behind him to give her hand a little tap where it was laying along the back of the couch. "Appreciate it."

"Hank," she sighed at him. "It was important."

He made another dismissive sound and dropped his hand back into his lap. "Just know it's not cheap or easy to be jetting back and forth this time of year. You need some help subsidizing—"

"Hank," she interrupted him. "I wanted to be here. I want to be here."

He just gazed at her. For a long beat before he allowed a little grunt. She stared at him.

"You know you're important to me, right," she put to him. "That Ethan's important to me."

He shifted his eyes back to her and let out a smack. It was a stupid way to put it. Of course he knew that. But she also knew there'd been points in her life – including recent history – that maybe she hadn't shown that to him quite the way she should. And she'd likely never really quite said in on those terms.

"There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about," she tried.

And she watched his look shift – to soften. And to really set on her – in waiting. And Erin knew that he knew. Or he thought he knew.

That didn't really surprise her. He was a cop. A detective. The guy who raised her. Her friend. Her father. And there'd been a lot of times in her life where he knew something about her – or how she was dealing with something or would deal with something – before she did.

But whatever he thought he knew – or thought she was about to tell him – in that moment, Erin knew he was wrong. She wasn't ready to get into that with him quite yet. Maybe when she was home at Christmas. Maybe if she got home for his birthday in January.

But she wasn't ready to go there with him quite yet. To share those words yet with anyone else but Jay. For anyone else to officially be in on the secret – that from his look she knew for fact wasn't nearly as secret as she'd like. And she suspected it might not be as secret as she wanted with some of the people she worked with either – even though no one had said anything quite yet. But she had seen some knowing looks from other women when she'd gone rushing to the bathroom to hurl up her breakfast. Or maybe more when she'd suddenly started turning down any coffee run offers or raiding the kitchenette for multiple top-ups per day. Maybe Ethan – and Olive – had even started to suspect in their own ways. Because Ethan had commented on her not having coffee at the brunch.

"I don't think they'd have very good coffee here," she'd tried to dismiss him.

"Like you care," he'd told her. "You drink so much coffee, you smell like coffee. It's basically your perfume."

And she'd just let it slide. Because she didn't think Ethan would put it together. But she did see that Olive had heard – and noticed – and cast the conversation a look. But she'd let it slide too.

And Erin was going to let it slide – make Hank let it slide – now. Because it wasn't what she wanted to talk about yet. It wasn't what she was ready to talk about.

"I just know …," she tried to figure out how to say this to him. How to ask. "… that I haven't always made things easy for you."

He made a sound. He smacked. He acknowledge the comment. But he shifted to look at her more.

"You don't have to do this, Erin," he said.

"Hank …," she started.

"Erin, kids aren't easy," he said. "Knew that when I brought you home. Known that for the past seventeen years. People – family – it's not easy. That's all that's got to be said about it."

"I said a lot of things …," she shook her head. "Not just as a kid. Since Justin. Since this spring."

And Hank just shrugged at her. "Way I look at it is if you're kids are still taking the time to talk to you enough to let you know they 'hate you', you're doing something right."

She eyed him. She could feel some watering in them. The quiet knowledge within herself that she'd told him that. But that so had Justin and likely so had Ethan. And that hurt right now. It hurt her. She couldn't imagine how much that hurt him – she didn't want to with what was growing inside her – especially now.

"Hear enough 'I love yous' to more than make up for a handful of 'I hate yous, Kiddo," he said and gave her hand a little squeeze.

"I love you," she told him firmly. "I love Ethan."

"I know," Hank gravelled. "So does he."

She let out a ragged breath and pulled her hand from his to swipe at her eyes before they really did release the tears she didn't want to shed. Not today. And not in front of him.

And Erin pulled herself up and padded over to where she'd left her coat, digging in her pocket to retrieve the folded sheets of paper. She could feel him watching her the whole way and examining the paper carefully as she sat back down next to him. She kept the pages gripped in her hands.

"This spring … the summer …," she said and made herself keep his eyes. "The fall. I've had a lot of time to think."

"Mmm …," he grunted. "And I'm real proud of what you're doing for yourself."

She tried a thin smile. But she felt her eyes struggling against tears again. "I've thought a lot about family," she said. "About what makes family."

She handed him the papers and he gave her a long look before finally unfolding them and sitting reading them. He read them slowly. And she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't have his reading glasses or if it was because of all the legalese. Or because he didn't like what he was seeing at all.

An adult adoption. It was likely on the list of things that Hank thought were ridiculous.

But he finally smacked and looked at her. "Know, me and Camille were ready to sign paperwork like this sixteen years ago," he said and shook his head, "But …"

"I know," Erin said. "But that was then and this is now. And … Bunny's … not part of the equation anymore. I'm an adult. It's my decision. It's what I want."

Hank stared at her and glanced at the paper again before looking back to her. "Erin," he said, "signing this – has more implications for you than me at this point. My will, the estate. How I want things to go. You're all included in it. I don't need some court officer to sign off on telling me you're my kid."

She bit her lip. "I do," she managed to get out.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because," she said, "you're my dad. And Camille was my mom. And Justin and Ethan are my brothers. You're my family. And I want that official. I want that stability and certainty. For all of us. I need it. I think maybe we all do. For now. For the future."

He sat there looking at her for a long moment. A moment so long it felt more like a minute. But she couldn't read him. Her vision was too blurred.

But then his hand gripped at her hand – tightly. And he leaned forward to retrieve a pen. She watched – she listened – as he flipped to the last page and he scrawled his name. He signed and he stared at it. For a beat that felt long too.

And as he held it out to her she'd barely managed to lift her hand to retrieve it before she'd pulled her even more tightly into a hug. And he held her. For a long time. So long she wasn't sure if the tremble was his or hers. But she knew she'd given up on trying not to cry.

She knew that she was finally home – even if she was still stuck in New York. For now.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Well, I'd hoped to get a few more chapters out before Christmas — but this is it folks. Hope you enjoy it. And your holidays.**

 **Do check out the previous three chapters (Mr Magoo, New Traditions and Selfish Decisions). They were all updated in a 24 hour period — so there weren't bumps and I think some of you missed them. Particularly Mr. Magoo. Seriously, only 100 of you have looked at it according to readership numbers.**

 **Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	13. Grown Up

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Jay slammed the door of Voight's Escalade as he slumped into the passenger seat. He'd fucked up. He'd revealed too much. Showed too much of his hand. Himself. And he fucking hated it.

He should've known. Should've fucking known that this would be a shit night. That some part of it was going to blow up in his face. He should've just fucking have refused to get into the SUV in the first place. But he'd been a dumb-ass.

He'd let Voight showing up at his door and the "Let's go for a ride" line suck him in. Thinking that this was some kind of necessary evil to clean-up whatever pissing match he'd gotten himself into with Denny Woods. Whatever it was that had Ruzek with his pants around his ankles and balls hanging out – waiting to be castrated, it seemed. Or worse – to bend over and take it. And at this point Jay wasn't sure if Adam was about to get fucked by Voight, Woods or just the fucking brass or all of Chicago. What the city and the force was anymore. What it'd become. Maybe what it'd always been but he'd managed to make himself see it differently. At least for a while. These days, Jay didn't see it quite the same way. The whole unit, the whole force, the whole city, the job, the whole fucking country – it was all just a mess. A giant fucking mess.

But on the home front – in the unit, the latest tension that … realistically, had been going on for as long as he'd been there but just went in these fucking waves and it felt like they were either riding the top of the tsunami right now or more like they were standing on the shore watching it come crashing in all around them. And it just had Voight's making all over it. Didn't matter of it was past or present making. It was his own fucking mess.

Only Jay felt like the fucking game Woods – the Ivory Tower – was playing with Voight was just pushing them all farther and farther into the corner. No matter what game Hank thought he was playing – or thought he would win. That it was still Intelligence on the line. It was still Jay's own fucking job on the line. The Ivory Tower – IA – had him in their crosshairs enough. He didn't need this shit right now.

He needed his job. Now. For more fucking reasons than to have something to do and focus on. He needed the fucking pay check. He needed the fucking benefits. He needed the fucking 401K. He likely even needed the fucking union at this point for all that they were worth in accomplishing anything. His FOP rep sure wasn't doing much to protect ass. Or anyone else in CPD as far as he could tell. Not the good police. It was people like fucking Denny Woods who they seemed happy to cuddle up to. And then CPD acted all shocked when the community didn't trust or like police – when they found corruption in the police? Take a look at who you let hold the reins. It wasn't the people with fucking anger management issues or PTSD they should worry about it. Cops like Denny Woods even made the fucking racists and bullies and sadists look like good police.

The whole city – the whole force – the whole job of being a cop any more had just become this puddle of shit. Fucking quicksand. And Jay felt like he'd been drowning in it for months. And he needed a way out. He needed back on stable ground before … before May.

He'd thought "Let's go for a ride" meant that Voight had a plan. He'd figured out how to get Woods off their backs. How to get IA off their backs. How to fucking save Intelligence before the unit imploded more than it already was.

But he still should've said no. He should've backed out. Because nothing was ever clear cut or simple with Voight. And their plans – their moral compass – never seemed to align much. Or they hadn't. Anymore they seemed to align more and more. Jay gave him a heads up about what was going on more and more. Actually listened to his advice more and more. Took his marching orders while still running his mission the way he needed to. To get it done.

He shouldn't have that night, though. Just fucking shouldn't have. Because now he hadn't given him a heads up – but he'd fucking tipped him off. And that was worse. And it was all because Jay'd been in the wrong headspace. And he'd lost his cool. About stupid fucking shit. And that just tipped Hank off even more. Jay knew it.

And he hated that. He hated he'd let that happen. That he'd made that slip. That he was that close to the edge – in his own head – that he hadn't been able to reel himself in before making that explosion. A fucking unwarranted explosion. One not for Woods or CPD or Intelligence. For a fucking ride to buy Christmas presents.

That's what "Let's go for a ride" meant that night. A reality that had set in slowly when Jay had asked where they were going and only got told, "Picking a couple things up." That's it. Nothing more. Wasn't until they'd parked down the street from Ethan's fucking rock and gem and fossil store over on the North Side that he'd clued in that this wasn't work related.

This was … Jay didn't know what it was. Imposed bonding time?

Only he didn't think it was that. It wasn't.

It was … just fucking proof he'd likely tipped his hand too much at work too. That Voight had … Hank could tell where he was. Mentally. Emotionally. The PTSD was showing. Showing to the point his boss was aware. Too fucking aware. That he'd triggered on the job. And people had seen. Fucking Hailey had seen..

And maybe Upton had said something. Again. To people she shouldn't have been opening her mouth too. That she had gone poking her nose into his business again. Alerting their supervisor – their commanding officer – that he seemed to be taking things "intensely" and that he might've had some stuff "triggered". Her catch phrases to try to make it sound like she was remotely talking around it. She wasn't not to his face and not to anyone else around him.

She wasn't Jay's fucking babysitter. And he was getting pretty fucking sick of her acting like she was, even if he tried to be polite about it. Tried to tell her that he appreciated her "looking out for him". He didn't. He wanted her to give him some space. To stop acting like she remotely knew him. Or that she was remotely capable of filling some of the holes he had in his life right now. Or was able to help him in any way fix some of the cracks so he could get back up on his foundation – Erin. So he could be Erin's foundation. Again.

Because that's how it was supposed to work. That was how it previously worked. That's how they made their relationship fucking work. And now it just wasn't how it worked.

He was supposed to be the stable one. Maybe he'd liked being the stable one a bit too much. Maybe it helped him feel better about himself. Fuck the job reminding you that there were people out there with problems bigger than yours. He hadn't believed it when she'd said it. Hadn't agreed. But maybe it wasn't that he was lying about his own problems then – and how big he felt they were, maybe he should've admitted that to her right then. Instead he'd realized another one of his lies. That it wasn't the people they dealt with that he felt like had bigger problems than him. It was maybe her. A little bit. And maybe that had created too much of an imbalance in their relationship that he hadn't even realized was there. And maybe he should've. Because she'd told him. She'd expressed to him all the fucking time that she didn't like how he chipped and chipped away at her to get her to talk about her past and her baggage and her scars and her holes she climbed down into. To work on her problems. But he didn't really listen then. Or he just used it all as an excuse. She had problems. She had baggage. She had shit she needed to work on. She dug holes for herself and cast herself down into them. So let's focus on that. Let's not deal with his own shit. Just keep pretending it wasn't there.

And maybe that'd worked. For a while. It'd been a pretty decent way to function while she was there. While he was with her. Because someone had bigger problems than him. He'd convinced himself. And he'd given himself something else to focus on. Something else – someone else – to work on. Something different than booze or dope or video games or banging through a bunch of strangers in a daze. She'd become this new caulking for all the cracks and all the holes that he'd been putting off thinking about or working on. The parts of himself that he never felt ready to repair because the job just felt too fucking big.

Only she wasn't there now. She wasn't a daily part of his life. And it wasn't her who was unstable. It wasn't her who was in a hole. If anything, she'd found her own focus and mission. A task to work on. To prepare for and to be better for. And Jay wasn't entirely sure that that was him that she was being better for. He couldn't even let himself think that it was him. Because that was selfish. And it was still acting like he was the center of some kind of universe – or the hero of some story … of her story … and he wasn't. He couldn't be now. He couldn't even be the hero of his own story. He had to be … had to figure out how to be … the hero of … for … people that didn't exist in his universe yet. Only they did. He could see it and feel it when he was with her. He could still see it and feel it inside himself too. When he closed his eyes. When he had too much quiet time. When he was alone. When he called up those pictures from a few weeks ago and just stared at his phone. Stared at them.

And he knew he had to be better than this. Better than the person he was a kid and as a teen and as a solider and when he came back and what he'd become. He had to figure out … who the fuck he was in all this. Who the fuck to function in all this. Because Erin … she … she just seemed confident and happy and comfortable in these roles and titles and responsibilities that were hurdling toward them. These new fucking complications when everything was already so fucking complicated. And he knew she was going to do this. With or without him. He didn't need to try to fix her – or help her fix herself – anymore.

She was fine. It was him who still needed to fix those cracks – become that foundation – for someone else. For other human beings. That didn't need him all cracked up. Didn't need him useless. Didn't need to be burdened with the baggage he'd been carrying around and the baggage that he still wasn't sure how to put down.

And he was pretty fucking sure Voight knew all that at this point. He'd clued into the nitty-gritty details. About him. About Erin. About May.

And he wasn't supposed to. He wasn't supposed to know any of it. And a whole big part of it – Jay had intended to have fixed, or at least better, before Erin brought Hank officially into the loop of the personal stuff. Not just personal stuff. Family stuff. Hardcore, mind-boggling stuff that he was still working at getting his own head around. Which was why … he shouldn't have gotten into the car.

He shouldn't have trailed along with Voight on his fucking Christmas shopping expedition. In and out of stores. For all Erin's claims that when it wasn't food related Voight had all of three stores he'd tolerate – that's not the reality that Jay watched play out. Not the mission he'd trailed along on as a sidekick.

Standing at counters watching Hank once again prove that he knew everyone in the fucking city. That he'd built his career on relationships.

That in a fucking rock store he still had the owner doing solids for him. Little favors. Special orders. Special discounts. Because Voight had been going in there for fucking fourteen years for dinosaur stuff. And now for rocks. Geodes for Eth to crack open. Literally rocks that he showed off to Jay when they left. "Slightly better than coal," he'd quipped.

"Not much," Jay had said.

Voight had just grunted. Cleary disagreement. And he was likely right to disagree, because Jay knew too that Eth would be thrilled. Jay was actually pretty sure that the kid would insist on cracking open the things as soon as he dug them out of the stocking. So they'd stop. And then when he did hammer the rocks open they'd wait some more until Eth retrieved his geology book and decided exactly which mineral formation it was that he had ended up with.

They'd been left standing at the counter while the guy had gone in back to retrieve the rest of Hank's order – a theme that played true all night. At least eighty percent of the evening had just been a pick-up mission. Drops scattered across the city and Jay felt a bit like an errand boy.

Hank didn't order online. Something that got made clear – again – when Jay had made the mistake of indicating that all of this could've just been ordered online. Delivered to the house or to District. Free shipping rather than running down a tank of gas criss-crossing across all of Chicagoland.

Face time. Relationships. Having a presence in the community. Showing your face. Supporting your community and local businesses. Networking – it's part of the game, it's how you run game. It's how you get good C.I.s and informants who aren't C.I.s. It's how to be a part of a community – period. And – did enough work with Intelligence and all the ways the internet and technology and social media had impacted that to know he wasn't handing over additional information about himself, his finances or his kids to anyone he didn't have to. Three word to three sentence mini lectures on how Voight saw the world. Over and over again that night.

"Don't think I really need to be here for this," Jay had grumbled at him, as he gazed around the shop. It was a bit of a dust bin. An archeological expedition all of its own.

Voight had smacked at him and cast him a look. "Didn't look like you had anything else on the go tonight," he said and kept those eyes on him.

There was complete judgement in them. And Jay knew he'd seen the beer bottles in the basement space that he pretty much bided his time him anymore. There wasn't a whole lot of point in going upstairs – or up more stairs to the bedrooms. Didn't need the front room. Didn't need the kitchen. Pretty much came in the door from work, went to the beer fridge – aka the garage in winter, and turned on the TV. Maybe not the most productive use of his personal time – but a lot better than other bullshit he could be finding for himself.

"Where's Eth?" he muttered at him instead. Like dragging Erin's little brother across Chicago was even an option these days. Or that it made any kind of sense to have him with them while Voight was pretty clearly picking up his Christmas presents. But, Jay also wasn't sure it made much sense to be leaving the kid alone at the house for hours. Though, he also knew that Eth wouldn't be alone. Not for hours, if he was. That Olive would likely be there. Or something.

"RIC Christmas Party," Hank had smacked at him, though and kept his stare on him. "Asked you to chaperone. Never got back to him."

Jay sputtered a bit at that. He tried to find some excuse. But he couldn't find any. None other than … he'd been spending a whole lot of time in his own head lately. And that wasn't much of an excuse. Not when it came to Eth. Because he'd promised Erin he'd still keep checking in on her brother. And Hank. Not just at work. That he wasn't going to check out on Eth. He'd told her he wouldn't. But apparently he had.

"Snowflake Formal," Hank put to him more directly. "Eva's birthday. Two of them looked nice. Cute. Grown up." There was another smack at that. "Sent some pics to Erin."

And Jay felt like a bigger … asshole. He slumped against the counter – didn't even try to come up with an explanation, because he didn't have one that was worth anything.

The guy came back out and piled a few items on the counter for Hank. He looked them over.

"These better than coal?" he quipped at Jay again.

And that time he did nod. "Yea," he acknowledged. "He'll like them."

Hank picked up the dinosaur model that had been placed on the top of the pile. "This the titanosaurus?" he put to the guy. The guy just nodded. Hank examined a bit. "Just looks like his brachiosaurus."

"Bigger," the guy said.

Hank grunted and looked at it some more. "How much will this guy set me back?"

"For you - forty bucks," the guy said.

"Killing me, Dave," Hank put to him with a headshake. "This is a stocking stuffer."

The guy only shrugged. "Pretty sure, Camille left me with instructions that I'm not supposed to let you be a tightwad about the dinos."

The two men shared a wishy-washy smile and Hank put the toy down next to the pile.

"What else you got? Not sure he'll be as thrilled about this guy as I thought."

The Dave guy gave a little nod and came around the counter, leading them over to a cluttered shelf full of the hand-painted, scaled models that were somewhere between toys and collectibles. He gestured at the top two rows.

"These are the 2017 releases," he said.

"Mmm …," Hank grunted and examined them. Jay knew he was immediately scanning and cataloguing which ones that Eth already had.

Dave tapped at one. A giant pre-historic looking viciously giant crocodile. "This is the one our local guy at the university unearthed," he said.

"Mmm …," Hank grunted again and picked it up, giving it an examination. "Sereno?"

Dave made a sound in the affirmative.

"E met him. Had him in doing a talk for the kids over at Field," he said. He flipping it over to check out the price on its foot. Jay spotted $40 and saw the thing get set back down.

Dave pointed at a smaller and less detailed version a few shelves down. "Seventeen," he offered. "Give it to you for twelve."

Hank made a sound of acknowledgement but picked up another model. Looked like a raptor head had landed on top of a vulture. He flashed it at Dave.

"Archaeopteryx," the guy said. "Twenty," he added. "Yours for fifteen."

It got another hum out of Voight and he flashed it in Jay's direction that time. "Really into all this species and evolution stuff right now."

Jay nodded.

"Got the feathered raptor too," Dave said and tapped at another one.

Voight shook his head. "Got that one already," he said and looked Jay more directly in the eye, still holding the archaeopteryx thing.

"It's cool," Jay allowed but pointed at another one. "They had that one down at Jurassic Park – Universal. I think. A … dimo…"

"Dimorphodon," Dave finished for him.

Jay nodded at that but picked it up and stared at it. "Scared the shit out of him," he said.

"Oh yea?" Hank said and took it out of his hand.

Jay made a sound. "Had a scale one in the line for the one ride. All animatronic and moving, squawking. Eth cowered, stared and hardly moved for a good five minutes and then ended up giving everyone around us a lecture on the thing."

A small sound of amusement escaped him at that. "Better half of his genetics showing," he directed at Dave and flipped the toy to search its claws for a price.

But Dave just reached and took it from him instead. "Sounds like your better half put in an order for this one then. Give it to you for ten."

Hank nodded. "Know my stocking limit."

Dave snorted at him and cast him a look as he took it with him back to the cash and the other waiting items. "Should," he said, "see you in here every Christmas and birthday for the past fourteen years."

Dave grabbed something from under the counter and flashed it at him. A tube of miniature dinosaur skulls.

"Customer loyalty bonus," he said.

"Oh wow," Hank said and looked at that. "He'll love that."

"Figured," Dave allowed. "Saw them come in and set one aside for you."

Hank shook his head. "So tack it on," he provided, digging a pile of envelopes out of his jacket's inside pocket and Jay staring as he sorted through the labels: Ethan, Henry, Olive, Erin/Jay, Stockings. "Don't need to be handing out freebies."

Dave made a dismissive noise and looked him directly in the eyes. "How's the kid doing?"

Hank just made a noise and shrugged. "Good kid," he said. "Strong man," he added, keeping his eyes focused on the envelopes, shuffling out the one that said Ethan and the one that said stocking and making a little grunt that Dave seemed to know what it meant. Two bills apparently.

Dave started putting the two bigger items through, setting the dinosaur and geodes off to the side. He gave Hank another glance as he looked at the screen and sorted some bills out of the envelope – Jay watching, thinking, judging … about the process, about where that money came from, about why he was managing cash that way.

"You need me to set anything aside for that grandkid of yours?" he asked, as Voight handed him the cash.

It got a smack. "Not sure yet," he said and looked more directly at the man, as he started to cash-out the stocking stuffers. "H is more of an anything with wheels kid. Hoping to get E out to pick something up for under the tree over the weekend. Don't know if he'll try to bring him over to the dark side with the dinosaur thing one more time or not. He's getting big into the car stuff too now."

"Teenager," Dave muttered and nodded at the till, as Hank handed him some more bills, this time out of the stocking envelope. He took it but then nodded off into the corner. "Do have some of the Dinotrux stuff, though."

"Oh, yea," Hank acknowledged and took a gander in a general direction. "That show's a decent way to get the two of them to shut up for a bit."

Got a small laugh out of Dave, as he handed back a bit of change that all went back into the envelope.

"With E, we're looking at about the fifteen bones max range for his Christmas shopping. I'd prefer it be more like seven, twelve," Voight smacked.

Dave made a small hum of acknowledgement and gazed back in the direction of the Dinotrux toys, only to glance around the rest of the shop.

"Tell you what, know how Ethan can get with over-stimulation and choice," he said. "I'll pull maybe three, four, five things in that price range. In case see you guys in on the weekend."

Hank gave the guy a good smack on the arm for that. "Appreciate it," he said and gathered the bag that the purchases had been placed in.

"Two, right?" Dave put to him.

"Two and a half," Hank said. "And quick. Real bright. Got his grandma's smarts in there."

"Hmm," Dave allowed. "Pretty sure I remember his father being a bit of smarty pants too."

Hank grunted. "When he wasn't getting too big for them," he said and gave the counter a tap. "We'll see ya."

And Jay just got a nod – an apparent order to exit. So he did. Again following after Voight as they went back to the vehicle. As the bag got loaded in the back. And as Voight got back into the car next to him and again pulled out the envelopes – this time handing them, the receipts from inside and a pen to him.

Jay gazed at the apparent wad of cash that had landed in his hand. "You think it's really smart for you to be pulling out envelopes of money these days," he muttered.

Voight smacked next to him. "You think it's real smart for me to be running up credit cards and debt these days."

Jay just stared at him as Voight pulled on his seatbelt. "You realize that Woods is coming after you because of … and situation like … this," he wagged the envelopes at him.

It got a louder smack followed by a long pucker. But it didn't get a response. Maybe it didn't exactly warrant one. Because Jay knew it was different. And he knew that the least wad of cash Voight had been caught with had been placed. A honey trap that Voight was supposedly working at turning around on Woods himself. But Jay wasn't sure he believed it was working. Or that Voight even had a plan. Especially if they were out on a weeknight doing Christmas shopping like … their whole world wasn't imploding around them. Their work world. Their personal world. Their life and families.

But Jay did know he wasn't sure he was still all that comfortable handling envelopes of cash that were coming in and out of Voight's pocket – while he was sitting all cozy up to Voight, in his personal time. It didn't look good. Not when Woods was after Voight – and Intelligence. Not when IA was after him.

"Need you to do the math," Voight grunted at him as he started the car.

"What?"

The math. The math was one plus one equalled bullshit. That him minus Intelligence equalled a big mess. That he didn't know if Voight was greater than or less than Woods. Or they were equal. Though, he wanted to believe that Hank was a bigger and better man than the Denny Woods he was seeing.

And maybe it scared him too that he was starting to think – to believe, to just know – that Hank was a bigger and better man than him too. That he had figured out equations that Jay hadn't even started to piece together yet.

Hank jabbed at the cash value written at the top of the envelope and the receipts he'd shoved into Jay's hands, as he pulled away from the curb.

"Subtract," he ordered. "Know the balance. Stick to the budget."

Jay stared at the envelopes again and then looked back to Voight who had his sights yet on the road.

"Do I get to pay the cashier too?" he snarked.

But that just earned another glance for Voight. "Always made my little guys feel grown-up," he rasped and his eyes shifted right back to the road.

But Jay's didn't. They stayed on him. For a long time until he looked back at the envelopes and the money and the budget and the organization and the commitment that was wrapped up in that division of resources.

And it struck him that maybe it wasn't that he didn't feel like a man, it was that … he hadn't figured out how to be a grown up. That whether it was at fourteen or fifteen or eighteen or nineteen or twenty-one – he'd been forced to grow up, that he'd been put into a situation where he had to be a man – but that … he'd stalled. He'd emotionally and maybe even developmentally … at least socially … stalled back … years ago, decade and some … closer to two.

And maybe it wasn't that he wasn't man enough. Or he wasn't enough of a good guy. Or he didn't know how to do this – to be a spouse or a father or … . Or he didn't know how to be a hero. It was just that he … needed to grow up. In ways he hadn't really thought about.

But maybe … maybe … if he looked at it that way … he was ready for this. All of this. And could figure out how to do this. Because he was an adult. He … just … he had some areas … he still needed to grow on. That he still needed to grow up in. And maybe – he thought – he could do that.

He really hoped.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **OK. This chapter/scene/POV is getting split into two because it's long. Longer than I anticipated. But I like writing/thinking about Jay. So there you go. I know some of you like Jay POV's, so hopefully you aren't too annoyed that the next chapter will be a continuation of his line of thought here (and their night and what happens). It will then shift to a Hank POV that continues where Jay leaves off.**

 **As for the last chapter, I've had several comments and questions re: adult adoption and the introduction — whether it's appropriate or inappropriate for the character of Erin and her relationship with Hank — in this story.**

 **To start: Yes, adult adoption is a real thing. You'd see it in a variety of circumstances. It could be kids who age out of the system but had spent time with a foster family that is committed to continuing to include them in their family life. It could be a situation with a divorced or absentee parents where the mother/father's significant other has played such a role in the child's life that when they are old enough to in essence disown their biological mother/father themselves they could ask their other parent's significant other to officially adopt them without biology playing a role in how the court decided or blocked the matter. It could be an aunt or uncle that raises a child and wants that familial/parent-type relationship acknowledged when the child is no longer just a "ward" due to their age. It could be a situation where a child is raised by friend's parents and wants to declare them their family rather than the family that let them down. It could be a situation where a young adult (18-30) is orphaned and doesn't have other extended family but is brought into the fold of another family that is "like family" — so they officially declare their commitment as a family.**

 **Its common. And since it deals with adults — it's actually relatively simple and pretty much just some lawyers and paperwork. It's not a whole big long process like adopting a child or baby.**

 **In Erin's case, there wouldn't be — as Hank says — too many complications or implications with it. Where it would be more complicated would be if the "child's" parents were still alive and there were considerations about their will or estate if they died (e.g. they expected money to be coming to them). By becoming adopted by another family/parents as an adult, you are cutting all legal ties with your former biology. So, if there was some money in the will or estate that you were previously entitled to, you wouldn't be legally entitled to it anymore. You just wouldn't be a part of the equation. You also just wouldn't be a legal obligation in terms of decision making or contact point in any sort of notification or emergency (medical, financial, legal, etc.). You'd no longer be next of kin.**

 **Obviously for Erin, with Bunny and with her father unknown, most of this wouldn't really be a concern of consideration. She's also cutting ties of having any sort of obligation to be the one dealing with any mess that Bunny does leave behind. Which, might be good for her.**

 **For Hank, since Erin is a grown, independent adult in her 30s — an adult adoption is pretty much whatever to him. It's not like she's still finishing high school or looking at college or a deadbeat without a job that he has to support financially. And she's not at an age or stage in her life where she'd be tapping into his benefits, etc. He's already included her in his will and estate. So it's really … legally, not a big deal. It's more symbolic.**

 **Yes, I agree, in some ways Hank would absolutely think it was silly. An unnecessary. But I also think there would be part of him that would appreciate the recognition of what him and Camille did for her. And — maybe feel like they actually succeed in what they were trying to do for her — get her to adulthood, give her a chance, and make her a part of their family. To know that she's started to see that and accept that too. That she isn't just "like a daughter" to him. She is his daughter.**

 **I think he'd also see it as a commitment from Erin — legally and on paper — to be family. Which means, she has officially committed to cutting the cancer out of her life that he's asked her to her entire adulthood. I think he'd see that as a relief. And he'd see it as growth from her too. That he doesn't have to protect her from Bunny as much anymore. That she is taking steps to protect herself. To take care of herself. Self care. And she's no longer buying into the "blood" line ("He's not blood") that Bunny has preached at her. That she's started to hear his little family lectures and speeches that he's given her and the rest of the unit throughout the series (here and on the show).**

 **As for if it would or wouldn't be out of character for Erin to ask … in some ways, I agree that it would be out of character (and out of cannon) for her to ask. But, I think enough has happened in these FF stories and this AU that it is realistic for the way Erin is protrayed within this AU.**

 **My thoughts on it are framing it around where Erin's head would be at:**

 **-She's had a lot of losses — Camille, Nadia, Justin, miscarriage**

 **-Her world — and family — has really been turned on its head since Justin's death and Hank's actions**

 **-She whole world has spun out since the spring — Bunny, leaving Intelligence and Chicago, hating the U.C. work with the Terrorism Task Force, Ethan enduring abuse and flaring/progressing, starting another new job and being stuck in New York while trying to deal with the implications all this has had for her and Jay**

 **-She is thinking about and missing family**

 **-She's away from family**

 **-She knows her baby brother's disease is progressing and she's not there to see it or support him or to spend time with him. She's just left to worry and to try to have her own life and get on her own track. And she'd be dealing with fear and guilt within all of that.**

 **-And now she's found out she's pregnant.**

 **-Her whole concept of family — and her thoughts around it — would again be spun around. And something she's focusing on a lot.**

 **I think she would be scared about the future. About how she's going to deal with this all. And how anyone is going to deal with it. I think she'd see it as a way to give her some stability and some connection.**

 **And I do think she'd want Hank to legally be the grandfather to her children. She'd want that commitment from him too to still be in her life and to these other people's lives. Not necessarily for him — but for her and for the future kids too. I would also — if things didn't work out with her and Jay — make things a lot less complicated in what would happen to the minors if something ever happened to her. And it'd made legally clear who got to make decisions on her behalf and be notified if something happened — again, if Jay wasn't in the picture or indisposed. And that might be a relief for her.**

 **And I think it's generally an acknowledgement of growth of the character. Both from the spring and just overall. That she's working on herself and recognizing things that are important to her. And she's also building a foundation for a future.**

 **All that said, when you're writing stories and plotting them out — you do need to do set-ups for things that are going to happen later in the story.**

 **Now I recognize that I'm a slow writer and sometimes I don't fully finish the stories I start (I have a lot of other writing and commitments and life, people) — but you'll have to trust that Erin officially being an adult member of the family (e.g. daughter, sister) and her being pregnant likely has implications and importance for how this story will likely pay out. It just might be much later in the story (e.g. the climax or Act 3) that you start to see the pay-off of things that are being set up now.**

 **Any way … hopefully for the few commenters and DMs I got from people that clears some of it up. Or at least gives some food for thought and explanation of my thought process, even if you still don't agree. That's fine. I don't write to please everyone. If I was trying to please the majority, this would all just be fluffy and M-rated bedroom smut.**

 **But anyhow …**

 **Your readership, feedback, reviews and comments are always appreciated. I enjoy having discussion and debate about the characters, thought process, and storytelling process where warranted. I do try to respond where warranted too.**

 **Reviews of this chapter are appreciated.**

 **I'll try to post the second-half of this scene in the next couple days. But we'll see.**

 **Hope people enjoyed their holidays — and have a Happy New Year in the likelihood that I don't update before 2018.**


	14. Tradition

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

The outing just kept going after that. It was pretty command and conquer. It wasn't just the envelopes and the budget that Voight had all planned out. It was the route. The stores he was going to hit. And what he was going to get in each store.

He had the week's – and the season's – flyers and catalogues in the backseat. He sat flipping through a couple of them in the parking lot before they'd gone into places. Jay had again tried to show him that there was an app for that. A quick way to look up where things were and what the best price was. But Voight had barely acknowledged he'd spoken. He had his way of doing things. And that was it.

That was always it. A lot of the time, it seemed. Though, Erin said it was less anymore. Or it was different. That Voight … Hank … had changed. That he'd changed since his wife died and his kid got hurt. That he changed again when Justin got himself in shit and the both of them in lock-up. That he was changed when he got out. That he changed when Eth came home – and when the kid got diagnosed. That he changed when he became a grandfather. He'd changed when he lost Justin and all the fall-out and adjustment with that. And he'd changed again – had to adjust again – that spring and that summer and now this fall. With Erin away. And Ethan sick. And the job and what it was and what it'd become.

So maybe they'd all changed. Maybe Jay was having to change again. Erin was. Hank likely would. Eth likely would too. Maybe they all would again.

And Jay wasn't sure what that meant or how he'd fit into it. If he could fit into it in a way that felt comfortable or made sense. Or if he could have both those things at the same time. Somehow he didn't think it was the same as having rugged good looks and a razor sharp mind. That was rare enough. He knew this – getting his cake and eating it too … with making a relationship work, becoming a family, and feeling like he somehow fit comfortably into what was Erin's fucked-up family … was likely too much to ask for. Maybe sort of outside of his reach.

Really, he sort of felt like he wasn't even ticking off the rugged good looks and razor sharp mind thing these days. You can't when you take the effort to numb yourself. Even if he was working to tone that down some. That he was weaning himself so he could … be the person that Erin needed him to be. That what was coming in May … what that would need him to be. But he hadn't been able to go cold turkey. He wished he could. And maybe he needed too. So … he didn't make more mistakes like this. Like not getting back to Eth on the chaperone thing. Like getting roped into a Christmas shopping outing with Voight and not putting the pieces together in a more expedient way. And then not having the sense to fucking bail when he did.

But maybe … there was something to be said for doing things your own way. Maybe that was the trick to form and function in this. A family. With Erin. The due date that seemed to be looming way too soon in May. That would be here … he knew in a blink of an eye. And he knew he couldn't just … look cool. They couldn't just try to look like a family. That they had to be a real one. And he wanted within that for them to feel good too. For it to feel … right, normal. Comfortable. Functional. To have form and function.

Erin seemed to have a knack for … somehow … managing to get form and function to jive. For all her flub ups – she managed to get the two to mesh. Or she had in the past. And she was acting like she was … she was going to achieve that again now. That she was confident in her ability to do that. And maybe it was all just a good act. A front. Because when you're half-a-country apart and barely seeing each other accept on screens, it's … easier to pretend. But he was having to trust that … she was still … working toward form and function. And that she'd picked him in the past. That she seemed like … she still wanted him … or was at least giving him the opportunity … to be a part of this now. So maybe she was pinning him for his form and function again. Or pinning them together to manage to pull of form and function as a family.

A family. It was a fucking scary thought. He kept thinking about it. And sometimes he felt excited. But then he felt like he was romanticizing the whole thing. Because he knew it wasn't going to be easy. He knew … he knew that him and Erin … they should be or needed to be … working on themselves. As people and as a couple. Figuring out how that worked and how they worked and how to make it work. And now … it wasn't really going to work like that anymore. It wouldn't just be about them. They weren't going to be a couple. They were going to be a family. And it was that word – that institution – it really fucking scared him.

He was going to be a father. A head of a household. Technically. Though, Erin would likely hate him thinking of it that way. It was too archaic. But maybe he was … she knew it too … sort of an old fashioned guy. Sometimes. And this … it meant … he was going to have lives and people he was going to be responsible for. Not just him. Not even just Erin. A family that he'd need to help grow and take care of and nurture and just not fuck them up.

Jay still wasn't sure he really knew how to do that. Or what example he had in any of that. If he even knew his way around that.

So … maybe there was even something to be said about doing it Voight's way. Sometimes. For things like this. Because Maybe Hank knew what he was talking about. Had his shit together on hit like this.

Maybe it was like he'd asked Dawson … fucking years ago … if he steered clear or if he learned from him. And Antonio's answer had been both. And that was likely still true now. But maybe in some ways Jay was … just ready to learn. Because where the hell else was he going to get a lesson? Not from his father. Not from his brother. Not from the guys he went and sat in that basement with and tried to get his head on straight. Because they seemed to have fewer answer than him. When he … he wanted them to … show him the way to deal with all of this.

They'd gone into a hobby shop. Baseball cards. Hank could've picked those up anywhere. But Jay was pretty sure that the shop they'd gone into was the same shop that Voight had been going into his whole life. That somehow the little hobby and collectible store was still managing to survive in the neighborhood. And maybe that said something. Jay was unsure if it said a good thing about the community and the clientele and what was actually being sold or not.

Jay actually wonder that more and more. Some of the people Voight associated with. The businesses he patronized. The line about his wife's father being a 'mechanic'. He didn't want to go all Hollywood mobster movie or Chicago or Italian-American stereotypical bias. But there'd been more than once where he'd wondered what exactly "mechanic" at an "auto shop" in fucking Chicago's previous Little Italy meant.

Just how … Voight got wrapped up into that family and his Social Club and scuzzy places like this that looked legit enough but that you had to wonder how they managed to keep operating in the 21st century and in a neighborhood that was being taken over by university professors, college students and the medical and paraprofessionals that were spilling over into it. They weren't exactly the kind of people you expected to be buying Italian ice, sorting through old collectibles, browsing around used book shops, sitting down for pasta on a daily basis or going down to the delicatessen to yak it up over a good spicy salami and coffee for hours on end. But maybe it was this … people like Voight who had stuck it out in the neighborhood and still kept on coming in here – or the ones who came back to visit their aging parents and their childhood stomping grounds and swung buy to do a pity-buy – that kept it afloat.

Voight again chatted up the young guy at the counter. And they waited when Hank was insistent that he wanted at least one pack of the holiday release from Topps.

"What's the point when you're just getting a single pack?" Jay had muttered at him when the wait drew on – because the guy was trying to sell Hank a whole box.

Voight only wanted a single pack. And the guy didn't want to break open a new box for a one-pack sale. And there'd been a lot of back-and-forth of him going into the back and talking back-and-forth with whoever was back there. Like this was some sort of decision that was going to make-or-break the whole business.

Voight must've known the guy in the back. There'd been calls back there. "Don't be a jagoff, Harry. Know if you open the box, you'll have nine other dads in there buying the rest of the packs for their kiddos by the time Santa's stuffing the stockings on the twenty-fourth."

But it seemed … just … Jay didn't see the point. A single pack?

Hank had just looked at him. "Tradition," he said.

And Jay knew Eth liked his traditions. That the kid was borderline obsessive compulsive about them – whether they actually existed or not. Just like he'd already been told that him and Erin were expected to take him to Star Wars. Just like he also expected him and Erin to host his great holiday cookie bake-off. Two things that Jay wasn't entirely sure how he knew how they'd become traditions. But apparently they were. To Eth. Now.

But he wasn't too sure why getting a pack of cards that had some red and green on the front and some metallic snowflakes etched into the cardboard was really going to make-or-break the holidays. Why this was on the list of must-keep traditions. Beyond the obvious of … Eth and time and illness.

And it was just this whole other layer to what all was going on that he hadn't really been able to let himself wade into. Because Jay was afraid he might lose himself if he had that to everything else. The PTSD – Afghanistan, his latest shootings, IA, the job, Erin, the pregnancy, family, his childhood – that was enough. He knew he was teetering. He knew he was seeking out ways to numb it all. He couldn't dig too far into the stuff going on with Eth. Because that sent him down … his mom. And this time of year. The anniversary coming up and the number attached to it. The years gone by that she wasn't there. And now what she also wouldn't be there for come May. What she was missing. And what he'd missed in those weeks and months before he'd come home. Before he'd come back. And the man he'd come back as – to all that – who wasn't her son. And with her being … too far gone. He should've come back sooner. He should've done so many things differently.

And he just couldn't go there with Eth. It was hard. It was really fucking hard seeing him like this. Looking him in the eye. Trying to be there for him. And knowing he was failing. And knowing that Erin was missing it too. And having a reasonable idea of what that was going to mean for her too. The kind of things she'd carry because of that when it was all said and done. And his compliance in that.

He just … couldn't do it. He avoided it. And a lot of times it seemed to mean he was avoiding Eth lately. Because … he didn't feel like he was in a place that he was much good for the kid.

And if he wasn't good for the kid … how could he be good to some other little human being?

He couldn't even – didn't even want to – try to keep up 'traditions'. Or that's what he thought.

"It's just going to be a handful of random cards he gets," Jay provided.

Hank grunted and shrugged. "He likes the look of them. Maybe he'll pull a good one. Trade or sell it for some more packs. Series he collects instead."

Jay just made a noise and again leaned against the counter in wait. Again assessed this other shop that was making him a little claustrophobic. Though, he had been in this one a handful of times with Eth. But dropping cash on baseball cards wasn't really his thing. He didn't think it'd really been Eth's that year either.

But tradition.

"Thing is," Voight said, setting his ass against the counter too and gazing at the shop, "you set up these little traditions. Little things. My pop brought me here. I brought my boys here. Will bring H here as long as it's around. Little things. For day-to-day. For the holidays. Nothing fancy. Doesn't have to be. Can keep expectations low. But, over time, those little things – a pack of baseball cards – start to carry a lot of meaning. Financially," he shrugged, water off his back. "But the investment of time – thought – into your kids. Those memories. Traditions. Pays dividends."

And he just turned back to the cash and leaned there – waiting. Leaving Jay to look at him.

Traditions. He wasn't sure how many of them he had. From his childhood. Or the makings of his father. Maybe some from his mom. Maybe others from his grandfather. But that his dad had established for them? To carry on into their lives? To pass on?

But it was … a fucking theme throughout the outing. Tradition.

They bounced around a few shops in the neighborhood. Butcher, baker and candlestick maker. That's what Erin joked. Voight's shopping and grocery run technique. But it wasn't a bad summary of how Voight treated those sorts of things.

They were all just in-and-out. But Jay still got out of the car. He followed along. Maybe he was trying to learn something. From him. Or maybe he was just doing his duty. Jotting down the figures that came up on the tills and subtracting them from the stocking envelope.

It was more special orders that Voight was picking up – a few holiday sweets and 'chocolate' that Eth could apparently eat. These little treats that cost an arm and a leg for a single treat. But while Voight negotiated the price of near everything else – there wasn't a comment out of him about the cost of these things. Because they were "for special" and "give him a treat" so he "doesn't feel left out" and because the kid had "got to live too".

Voight gathered some other food items from the Old Countries – his and his wife's – that apparently the guy still liked to have around the house and on the table at the holidays.

"Don't look," Voight had … almost teased … ? … him at one point while Jay was staring at … nothing really. But at the dried meat and the spicy mustards and couple bottle of hot sauce and infused olive oils that had been placed up front waiting for him.

Jay blinked at the sundries and squinted at Voight. He didn't know what he was thinking about. Not then. And maybe not now either.

He was thinking … that … somewhere in that evening … they'd evolved into just … talking to each other. Not deep indepth conversations. But exchanging words and sentences in a way that they didn't usually. Not during their "personal" time. Not outside of work.

Even though … they'd had some talks outside of work. Because they had to. It still … it usually felt like they didn't have much to talk about. That Voight didn't much want to talk to him. Or relate to him. And maybe Jay didn't really want that either. Because sometimes talking – trying to be more than just professional – it seemed to complicate it all.

But they'd talked that night. Just like … two guys picking up holiday stuff? For people they cared about?

Jay wasn't sure that was something he'd ever really done before. Not in that way.

But they'd talked. They'd exchanged random words and sentences and thoughts about what they were doing in the moment and opinions on what was being bought and more.

And maybe the more was the problem. Because the more was always what Jay tried to avoid. To keep it professional. To hold his cards close to his chest. And to not let anyone in. To not have unwarranted eyes on him. To not have judgements made against him. To just try to blend in. That was his job. That was what he needed to do to survive. To just go unnoticed.

But there'd been a lot of times the past few months where he hadn't accomplished that. And he hadn't accomplished it that night either.

He had Hank's attention. He shouldn't have. He shouldn't have let it get to that. But he had. Unfortunately.

"Going to ruin your stocking," Hank smacked.

Jay rotated back to the counter and stared more. He shook his head. Trying to comprehend and process. To read the joke – or non-joke. Because did Voight ever joke? Not really.

"Erin said we were responsible for each others this year," he said. "That you wanted us to tone it down on Eth and H's too. Nothing or one thing each?"

Voight just grunted. "That the thing she's going to pick to listen to me on?" Another joke? Or just reality. He took the bag from the girl at the cash. "Can't pack this all away myself. Won't do anything for my cougar-like physique."

And Jay again stared at him as he moved toward the door more like a bulldog than any sort of cougar he'd encountered. And he measured if that was another … almost yet another joke out of Voight. Because those were few and far between. And he wasn't sure how to read them. Not when he was sharing those … little comments with him, directing them at him … not Erin or Eth or his grandson. They were tossed out there for him.

Hank had dragged him out of his house – his basement, his hole – maybe not for Erin. Or for Eth or to guilt trip him about not showing up at Eth's Christmas party thing. That maybe he'd … shown up specifically for him?

That maybe this was about him? And that made Jay feel uncomfortable too. And maybe that should've been the point he bailed. High-tailed it back to the townhouse and away from whatever this was.

Because it made him uncomfortable. It made him uncomfortable to as he measured if … if the joke mean … Voight was … still … picking up a few things to put in the stocking … for him …?

For him? When he was a grown man. When he was … new to the … family ...? Still. When he felt like an outsider who wasn't too sure of his place … still. And how that felt … the added layer and confusion and built when he knew … Erin was pregnant. And when … Hank knew that him and Erin were still … still whatever they were right now. Even though they were trying. Trying so fucking hard to be more and to be better and to fix this and to get it to the place it needed to be. To the place that made since. Now. And in May. And … for the next eighteen years. Or … really … the rest of his life.

But that was the thing too. This. The pregnancy. Thinking about … all of it. It … it was driving home for him how much he actually was in love with Erin. Still in love with Erin.

And it wasn't that he'd fallen out of love. He knew he wasn't over her. It was just … they were in a place … he was and she was … that he wasn't sure they'd realistically work it out in a way that would work out. That made any sense. But that had been before she'd told him.

Now? Now … he was thinking about her … constantly. He was thinking about … what they could be. And her … just this completely fucking cliché … that she had this glow coming off her right now. And it wasn't the pregnancy. Or maybe it was. But … it was this comfortable confidence he saw in her. The stability in her that scared him because he didn't feel it in him – but that also … it excited him. It'd stirred up that want and lust and love in him. The love. Just this ache for her – and for the family they could make. And to be a part of it. And to have her back more fully in his life. And in his day-to-day. And them back in the same place. Her back home and in the townhouse and … his reality.

It was just this feeling. It was confusing. Because it didn't … feel … like the times he'd maybe panicked or maybe rushed thing or maybe was a little too much like his brother when it came to love and relationships and women. And it was a different feeling than the love he'd had for her before. It was like … it'd grown. It'd become more urgent. Or … deeper.

That was likely the word he was looking for. Deeper. Like it'd reached down into that hole he didn't really want to admit that maybe he'd fallen into. And it was grabbing at him and it was trying to pull him back out.

And he really wanted to let it. He wasn't to just … fucking float like some sort of cartoon dog with hearts in his eyes … up and out of there. And to this life that could potentially be his.

But that scared him too. And it just didn't feel as easy as it seemed. He felt like he was too heavy to float. Not matter how much he wanted to.

But – fuck – he wanted … he needed … out of that hole.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **OK. I'm doing a Jay POV ramble. Planned direction, unplanned chapter/scene structure.**

 **Splitting again. Should just be one more. Might be posted later today or tomorrow. So check back.**

 **Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	15. Simple Gifts

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 *****PLEASE CHECK THE CHAPTER AHEAD OF THIS — TRADITIONS — IT WAS POSTED A FEW HOURS AGO AND WILL NOT HAVE BUMPED. THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF THE CHAPTER AND JAY'S POV*****

Jay was pretty sure he was getting to see what everyone was getting. Or at least getting a sense of it.

They'd gone into a bedding and linen store. A ridiculously expensive – but buy one, get one free (because it was pretty fucking clear that Hank didn't pay full price for anything, if it wasn't on sale he was haggling and if he didn't get a price he wanted it wasn't getting purchased and it maybe Jay wonder how much of Erin's weirdly thrifty shopping had to do with growing up in poverty versus taught ticks of being raised by Voight) – pillow had been purchased. Some sort of bamboo cover, shredded rubber, hypoallergenic, side-sleeper thing. That – most importantly - weighed a ton.

"I hope this isn't for Erin," Jay had muttered.

It'd gotten an unimpressed look and a smack.

"You realize that we've got seven pillows on our bed and only one of them is mine."

Jay stalled on saying it. Because he'd clocked it. "Our bed". It wasn't really their bed right now. It didn't even feel like his bed. He rarely went upstairs and slept in it. He usually just slept on the couch in the basement. In front of the television – late-night documentaries and infomercials. Sometimes that didn't even calm his thoughts and numb his mind and memories enough. So he … he went to work. He didn't even work most of the time. He just … sat in the break room. Sometimes he managed to sleep a bit.

He missed their bed. Or her bed. His bed was now Eth's bed. Or it'd been Will's bed. And really … after being Will's bed for a few months, he was pretty sure he needed to replace the mattress. Especially considering some of the women he'd had in there. His new partner among them. Upton too close for comfort and likely adding to her perspective that she thought she could talk to him as a friend.

They weren't friends.

He didn't like her bed in New York either. Neither did she. She'd said it multiple times. Even before she was pregnant. And part of it was she didn't have her pillow collection with her. And hadn't gone and purchased a replacement collection. Or slowly worked at dragging her existing one to the city. Because maybe if she did – it'd feel less like she was coming back in as timely manner as she claimed she was.

As Jay hoped she was.

But it still felt weird calling it "our bed" – their bed – anymore. And for a moment he thought Hank was going to comment on it.

A smack. "Maybe now you'll have nine. And if you ask nicely – maybe she'll let you use a second pillow."

Jay tried to squish the thing. He was pretty sure that the weight the thing could effortlessly smoother someone. He thought it was more likely that he'd make some kind of misstep or piss her off in some way in the coming months that she'd toss it over his head and free up space in the bed – in her life – via suffocation.

"Likes pillows." Voight smacked again. Jay knew that. Intimately. "Needs pillows."

And he took pause at that. Again. He halted for a moment. He measured if Voight … Hank … was trying to weigh into a conversation and territory that he'd been banned from. That Jay didn't think he had any business in being the one who broached anyway. Not initially. He wasn't even sure if it was the best idea for him to be there when Erin was ready to tell Voight. But he should be. He had to stand next to her. And be united in it. Or else Hank would read even more into it and it'd make things even more complicated. Than they already were.

So Jay didn't want to have that conversation now. Alone. And he stumbled over if he'd said something that tipped Voight off. That the pillow purchase was some sort of … pregnancy thing. For her back or her knees or the baby bump. Or however a pregnant woman slept when she was going through her pregnancy alone in another city without … him … to use as a body pillow. Or whatever other uses he had during a pregnancy. Jay kind of got the impression that Erin didn't feel he had too much use during a pregnancy. And Jay wasn't sure he agreed. At all. With this plan. For her there and him here. And he wasn't sure – he was near certain – that Voight wouldn't either. And that maybe he already didn't – and the pillow comment, and purchase, was just a jab at that.

And maybe that should've been the moment he walked away. That he really should've cut bait and left. Before he said anything more that might reveal or say too much or wade into a territory that he wasn't supposed to be going into. But he still didn't. He still stayed like an idiot.

A fucking idiot. Especially now.

"Or maybe they're for E or Olive," Hank interjected. A joke or a relief?

Jay looked down at the envelopes. "So who's stash am I supposed to deduct these from?"

"Erin's," Hank said and walked away. Just walked away. And Jay stood there for a minute. Trying to – and trying not to – read into that commentary.

They'd been in a book store and a camera shop. They were the two stores that'd taken the longest.

The camera shop – it was clear that Hank hadn't really known what he was going in to get. And it'd been a bit of a photography lesson and a rundown of the starter and amateur equipment that he knew Olive had followed by an interrogation of the college kid that had been sent over to help. This entire Q&A session about what sort of equipment or accessories would be good for a young mom photographing kids. And what sort of stuff would be beneficial for if she was looking at starting a side business … family and kid shots, dog shots, portraits, made moving on into engagement shoots. That sort of racket. Just a side gig. Nothing too big.

They'd been there a while with the kid showing them stuff and explaining how it worked and what it was used for. Voight looking at price tags and trying to negotiate the price a bit. But the kid didn't seem to have much power to waive on the fees and it also seemed to be about the only store they'd been in where Voight didn't seem to know someone. Or know too much about what it was he was looking for. It was plain to the eye, though, that any of the gear was going to cost a small fortune. A bigger one than what Voight had budgeted in that envelope. But he'd still wandered and asked questions until he picked out some things for his daughter-in-law. Practical, thoughtful stuff.

Another theme of the night. Near everything Voight had packed into the back of the car had been practical. But it'd also just been … thoughtful. The guy was really trying. And putting in time to do this. And demonstrating that he … knew … the people in his life. And Jay couldn't … even fucking remotely imagine his father doing the same. Not when him and Will were just little kids. And sure as fuck not now.

It'd been the same at the book store. Jay had been around long enough that he knew that was tradition. He knew that Voight stuffed a paperback into Erin and Eth's stockings. He knew that Erin seemed to have a hardcover under the tree for Voight. He knew that Hank's house had book shelves in nearly every room. And that Erin had dragged boxes and boxes of books with them to the townhouse. That she could sit and read and not realize that anything in the world was happening around her for those few hours that she got lost in the pages.

So apparently picking books for Christmas was a serious endeavor. Voight had gone back-and-forth on what he was picking up. Not that he'd said that. But they had walked back-and-forth between a few sections.

Jay had paged through some of the titles. He didn't know what to get Erin that year. A book had been a thought. But he didn't know what.

"Have you really read all the books you've got in your house?" Jay asked. It'd been more a question of … if it was worth adding more.

But Hank apparently hadn't registered it that way. But he seemed pretty absorbed in sorting through the shelf he was in front of.

"A lot of them," he said.

Jay had cast him a look. It wasn't that he didn't see Voight read. It was just … he didn't come across as … literate? But then … when you got to know him, he was. And then some. Another facade he put up about who and what he was. Expectation versus reality.

Hank just caught his eyes and smacked. Like he was again reading into what he was or wasn't saying with that.

Jay just looked back to the novel in his hand, though. "I was thinking of maybe getting Erin a book for Christmas. She reads a lot."

Hank just smacked at him. Maybe he'd said that with some kind of judgemental tone too. When it wasn't. Though, maybe it'd surprised him at the start too. That she usually preferred listening to music and curling on the couch with a book than putting on the television or a game or a movie. But in a lot of ways it made sense. As he got to know her and about her and how she was brought up – both by Bunny and by the Voights. And really … it made her interesting. Because what she read and what she had read was nearly as eclectic as her flea market décor.

But Voight just reached and pulled the book out of his hands, setting it back on the shelf in the exact spot he'd retrieved it from.

"You don't get your fiancée some mass market paperback novel," he gravelled at him. And Jay just stared. "Ravenswood. Montrose. Best used book store in Chicago."

Jay stared. "A used book?"

Voight grunted and went back to examining the back cover of what he had in hand. "Hard cover. Go for leather bound. First edition, even better."

Jay made his own noise. "That how you wooed your wife?"

And it just got a grunt. "Good books don't wilt and die."

And that'd hung there too while Jay processed. The contrast in relationships of what … he'd spent his teens around versus what Erin had. She'd said more than once that she was more than aware that Voight and his wife's marriage and relationship was far from perfect – that she'd witnessed her fair share of fights, arguments, bickering and tension – but it was still the kind of relationship she aspired to. And one that she didn't know she could ever have. And one that Jay wasn't sure he could give her either.

Because … even though Jay had witnessed enough too to know that Voight's life and relationships and marriage and raising of his kids as a parent and as a father … was far from perfect and far from easy – he also made it seem … easy. Just uncomplicated. This … suppleness to it if you just followed his rules. If you kept it simple and straight-forward and matter-of-fact. And planned and organized and executed properly. Just like on the job.

And Jay wanted to – wished – he could figure out how to do that. That it was as simple as … finding a good, leather-bound first edition and wrapping it up as some kind of peace offering and commitment.

Voight didn't give him the time to figure out how maybe you do that. Because he'd decided on what he wanted in that store. He'd gathered his collection of books to add to his library at home – and to the libraries of his kids and grandkid – and he beelined for over to the magazine section and rapidly pulled out several titles. Without even thinking or glancing. Just auto-pilot. Just … knowing what title everyone would want to spent Christmas Day flopped out flipping through. What ones that they could all pass around and gaze at in a day that … just comfortable seemed to stop and become quiet in the Voight house. Something that Jay had come to value and to continue to want to be part of. So he'd had decided that time it wasn't worth telling him that books and magazines could be read online and electronically now. He didn't think Voight would care. And maybe he didn't either.

The sporting goods store. Fishing and hockey and sub-zero clothing and flannel. And a comment about Voight dressing Eth like he was either a mini-me, a middle-aged man or still a little boy. When he was fourteen. It'd gotten four gruff responses out of Voight:

1) Eth still fit into boy sizes. Cheaper.

2) Eth had enough adult bullshit to deal with in his life – if he still wanted to wear shirts with the Cubs, dinosaurs or Star Wars plastered on them, Voight didn't fucking care about letting him continue to dress like a child and enjoy his childhood in that way.

3) The objective anymore was to keep Eth warm. He was buying appropriately; and,

4) He was doling out Eth's winter-clothing budget around to everyone again. So, if him and Erin thought they could do any better than have at it.

So that was pretty much the beginning and end of that conversation. Though, it had caused Jay pause again. And it'd left him giving Voight some space while he picked out what he was picking out.

It was one store that Hank kept on looking at his phone at. So Jay had caught up to him – and his space – again.

"Is the Christmas party over?" Jay asked, thinking he was getting texts for Eth.

"Mmm …," Hank grunted but shook his head. "Measured H's head and feet. Not matching up right." He twisted a helmet around to gaze at again. He handed it to Jay. "Don't have my glasses."

Jay looked at the box. "It just says it's suitable for age two to five," he provided.

Hank grunted and looked down the row. He picked up a junior one labelled as a small and twisted the box at him to the sizing chart.

"Think he'll get more life expectancy out of that one?"

Jay looked at it and shrugged. "What was his head measurement?"

Voight handed him his phone – just handed it to him, unlocked, like there was nothing to hide or nothing he wasn't allowed to see, and he trusted him to just look at the note he'd typed in there without nosing around farther – and walked away.

"Big melon on that kid," he muttered, as he wandered over to the skates.

And Jay had assessed the phone and the measurements and the boxes on his own. He'd picked the toddler one and despotised the other one back on the shelf and followed after Voight.

Voight gave him a glance, this time handing him an adjustable toddler skate.

"Figure out how those things work?" he asked.

Only it wasn't really an ask. It was an instruction. A task. And it wasn't until now – sitting in the Escalade – that Jay was realizing the whole evening had been a task. A distraction. But involving him. Giving him these little things to do and these little things to have say in. To interject his opinion and Voight was almost listening. Or at least acknowledging him. His presence. His … role … in the family?

Jay fiddled with the skate – figuring out the lock and slide mechanism. Taking the skate from a toddler size maybe up to a preschooler size. He showed it to Voight – moving it and locking it.

The guy grunted. "What you think?"

It was the 'what do you think?' that had set there. That didn't get asked often. Or ever. Not in the personal or professional. Not of him. But there it was. And about his grandson.

Jay pulled the skate back and fiddled with it again.

"They just for the post-Christmas skate?" he asked.

Another tradition. One that he knew was more Voight than Eth. And maybe more Justin – and Hank. As a father and son. Which would make sense that he'd now want to share it with his grandson. But Jay thought he knew Voight too enough that if that's all it was, he wouldn't be spending that kind of money on once-a-year blades.

Hank grunted a negative and picked up a standard hockey skate off the display rack instead.

"Getting him enrolled in the Icicle League. Saturday skating lessons. Over at Johnny's. The Ice House. Just over on West Madison."

He handed Jay the Bauers instead and he nodded at them but gave them an inspection anyway.

"Have him on Saturday mornings anyway if we don't have anything in the hopper. Give Olive a break for a couple hours. Get some things done without him under foot. Or a bit of quiet."

Jay nodded again and shook the Bauers. "It'd go with these. Look the part."

Voight grunted his agreement. His actual agreement. And took them back from his hands – along with the helmet that Jay had also selected for Henry – and headed for the cash.

To pay for a gift that would keep on giving. Not something that Henry would open up Christmas morning and be done with by that afternoon. Something for his grandson and for his daughter-in-law and for him, himself, to share for at least that whole winter. Maybe set him up for … years of shared interest and shared time.

And it wasn't his kid. It was Hank's grandson – his daughter-in-law of his dead son – and he was still doing that.

And Jay's own father didn't even try. Not now. Not ever. Not that he could ever imagine even telling him that Erin was pregnant. That he was going to be a father too. And he'd be a better one than he ever was. Even if he was shit at it.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **I lied. One more Jay. But you got two (possibly three) in a day.**

 **Please check the one ahead of this — it was posted earlier today — so won't have bumped or alert.**

 **You also may want to check again later in the day, as there may be the third and conclusion of this POV.**

 **Your readership, comments, reviews and feedback are appreciated.**


	16. Just Fuck

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 ***** PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS THE LAST OF A FOUR-PART JAY POV (GROWN UP, TRADITION, SIMPLE GIFTS AND JUST FUCK). THEY WERE ALL POSTED IN LESS THAN 24-HOURS. SO PLEASE GO BACK AND ENSURE YOU GOT TO SEE THEM ALL. *****

They'd ended up in a toy shop next. Sort of. It was more of a … teacher store?

"You been here before?" Hank had put to him, as they trudged up the street from where they parked.

"No," Jay had offered.

Hank grunted and held the door for him … ?. "Pretty sure Camille spent about two-thirds of holiday budget in here when the kids were little guys," he offered.

He hadn't offered anymore because he was up and at the counter chatting up the woman there. They again clearly knew who he was. Though, this time they acted like it'd been a while since they'd seen him. But they still seemed more than willing to help when Voight pulled out a handwritten list of these dexterity and fidget toys and puzzles and these cognitive and memory games that had been recommended by Eth's therapists and tutors at RIC. He'd asked about a couple specific ones and did his little spiel on the whole looking for stocking stuffers thing and what kind of price range he was looking at.

And then he'd left it with them. He'd left it with them and wandered over to where Jay was standing in front of the Lego in the place.

"You and Erin doing the Lego thing for him again this year?" Hank had asked.

Jay shrugged. "Not sure. If he's … outgrown it."

Hank gave him a long look because they both knew "outgrown" didn't mean he'd aged out of it. It meant that his hands and eyes didn't work as well anymore – and it might just be … making things worse. Adding to the kid's frustration.

"Don't think so," Hank said and reached to pick up a Speed Champion set – these Ford models, where even if Jay wasn't over as much as he used to be, he knew that Eth was obsessed with cars and motorcycles anymore. In a way that carried its own kind of heartbreak – because it was … something that even if the kid was around for years more, was going to be so far out of his reach. He'd never have his licence. Would never get behind a wheel. And Jay knew that was likely part of the reason the kid had become fixated on them. Or maybe more heartbreaking … just too fucking hard … was he'd latched onto the Ford Mustangs and the motorcycles because of him and because of his dad. And trying to share something with them. And maybe Hank was doing a good job at that. But Jay … he knew he wasn't. He wasn't there to help or to listen or to obsess with Eth.

Voight nodded at the big box of the Saturn V set. "Been talking about that one since the summer."

"Yea," Jay allowed. "We saw that rocket at the Space Center. He kept … saying you would've liked it."

"Oh, yea," Voight said and put down the set he was looking at to turn the big, bulking box around to take a look. "Would've liked to be on that outing. Glad you and Erin did that with him, though. Whole trip."

"Me too …" Jay allowed. Now more than he was. And he knew Erin was too.

"Wish the Lego wasn't so fucking expensive," Hank allowed and turned the box back around. "Hard to justify that much on a set. Be heroes if you had it under the tree for him."

Jay gave him another glance and a little shrug. "I don't really know what me and Erin are doing for him for Christmas this year."

"Got about ten days to figure it out," Hank rasped. He'd picked up another one of the Speed Champion sets.

"Yea … Erin's being a little weird about it. What she wants to get."

Hank smacked and looked at him more firmly. And Jay knew he'd said too much. Left it too open to be read into.

He tried to backtrack. "I think she just figured we should go more practical than with toys this year. Since he's in high school."

That was a lie. And Voight's look said he knew that too.

"Last I heard there was talk about the three of us … me, Erin, Olive … maybe trying to get a deal on a smart TV for you guys."

And that got a bigger smack.

"Got a TV," Voight said.

"I think they were thinking for upstairs—"

"Don't like televisions in the bedroom," Hank gravelled. "Erin knows that."

"Yea … well …," Jay said and picked up one of the Star Wars set, "I think everyone is getting a little concerned about you and Ethan sleeping on an air mattress in the living room all the time, Hank. And thought maybe it'd be better – and more comfortable – for you both if you had something upstairs."

Hank just gave him that look. That pucker. But nothing more got said. He just wagged one of the little Speed Champion boxes at him.

"Going to get this for his stocking," he said. "Buy one get one fifty percent off."

Jay looked at him and looked at the shelf. At the Star Wars U-Wing that he'd vaguely thought about getting Eth until he wasn't sure Lego was a good idea and until Erin indicated that … pretty much everything was a bad idea when it came to Eth right now. But it still had a $60 price tag. It'd be pretty much Eth's Christmas budget and then some.

"I should talk to Erin about it," Jay said.

And Hank smacked. He waved his hand at the shelf instead.

"Then pick out something that you want and will sit and keep him company with on the twenty-fifth," he said.

And Jay gazed at him some more. Apparently too long. Because then he reached for the shelf and snagged at Star Wars set instead. One that Jay had barely gotten a glimpse of – but knew too that Voight had just picked up a character he liked. One that him and Eth went on about. One that Jay liked far more than Eth. And somehow … Voight had retained that. Knew it.

"Merry Christmas," he muttered. But as muttered as it was … it was sincere.

And Jay hated how that confused him. How it felt. Because … he knew it shouldn't feel confusing. Or upsetting. But it did. It really fucking did. Because … his dad … Will … it didn't feel like this. It didn't seem like this. At all. Ever. Not before. Not now.

And something about that hurt. It hurt more now knowing about what would come in May. What he'd be a part of. What … he'd like his brother to be a part of. That he'd like Will to know what it was like. Because … Jay knew what it was like to have a role in Eth's life – even if he was sucking at living up to that right now. And he knew what it was like to have Henry in his life – even though that could be confusing and awkward too. But he tried and Olive tried. And he wondered … would Will try? Would Will want to be an uncle? Did Will have the fucking capacity to be an uncle? Or would he just have a commentary that Jay didn't want to hear.

And how did he tell his dad? Did he even tell his dad? Was it worth it? Because would he really fucking care? And did Jay really want him to be involved? And how, if he did, would it make it any easier or any less complicated? And what other bullshit would it drag up in his own life? And would making a decision on – telling his father, involving his father – or keeping him at arm's length still be selfish too? Because … Jay didn't want to deal with that past and baggage and complications. He didn't want to have to wade through it. Or measure what his father was as a grandfather that he hadn't been as a father. Or get angry about what he wasn't as a grandfather in comparison to Voight. Or to Erin's family, in general. If it was better – or selfish – to deny his children the opportunity to have another grandfather and his half of the family? Or if Erin's family … the people she had in her life, the people they'd picked and who'd picked them and that they'd built up around them … if they were enough? If it was better? Better than blood or genetics …

It just got more confusing when they were in the hardware store. When Voight had scruntized multiple socket and wrench sets – full mechanic kits. Nice ones. Until he'd finally pulled one forward and tilted it at Jay.

"He'll flip out," Jay offered. Because he knew it was for Eth. And he knew the kid would. That he'd love it. That he'd be beyond excited. Even though Jay didn't doubt that Hank already had most – if not all – the tools inside that box at home already.

And like he'd read his mind, Hank had muttered, "Need to set your kids up with good tools for life."

And Jay knew they weren't talking about the tool set he'd just picked out for his teenaged son. Even if they were.

"You need anything?" Hank had asked, after he'd settled the heavy – but still a sale item - box in the cart.

And Jay struggled again on if he was asking about tools or the tools he was lacking in life. The tools and skills sets that his father hadn't given him. Ones he'd worked hard to establish for himself. But there were still ones that Jay was becoming far too aware that he'd somehow reached adulthood missing. But that he needed to figure out now. That he needed to do better on own and bestowing as a father.

But that was … heavy conversation. A heavy topic. And there was a part of him that right there knew the evening had cracked him. That it'd found some of his cracks and worked at spraying water through them. Because for a moment there'd been all these questions he had wanted to ask Voight. To ask anyone. About being a father. And having a pregnant partner. And what to expect in the coming months. And what to expect in May. And how to get ready. And how not to fuck this up. And how to change a fucking diaper. Or to pick a crib or stroller or …

But he didn't. He'd stood there with his mouth hung agape. Trying to form thoughts and words and trying to reel himself in all at the same time.

And Voight gave him an out.

"Going to give me some hints about what you want?" he put to him. "Anything you and Erin need or want around the house?"

And there were so many ways to answer that question. Because Jay was starting a list. A giant fucking, never-ending list. Of baby stuff. Of things that he didn't know how they'd afford. Not with the mortgage on the townhouse. Not with still carrying a partial mortgage on the condo even with Olive had picked up the slack on most of it. Not when they were putting a huge chunk of Erin's pay check toward the ridiculous rent in New York City. Not with cars and insurance and bills and debts.

And that scared him too.

Babies were expensive. Kids were expensive.

What if they became a one-income family? What if Erin wasn't able to come back? What if they had to get rid of the townhouse?

What if …

"I don't really need anything …" Jay said.

Because that was the easiest answer. Even if it was a lie. Even if it was easier to just … not have Hank buy him anything. Because that was still fucking weird. And he didn't think it was something he'd ever get used to.

Hobby shop for baseball cards. The game shop over by Erin's … Olive's … condo with Hank shoving a handwritten list of dexterity toys and cognitive and memory games recommended by Eth's therapists at RIC. Him standing there and haggling prices until he'd rasped about needing a few minutes. And he'd pulled out a wad of envelopes with cash out of his jacket

Even though the guy was so simple and practical and purposeful in what he bought. Even though it was fucking regimented.

Them going up and down the pharmacy and toiletry and hygiene aisles at the Target – their last stop. And Voight just on … point. Knowing the brands and the likes and dislikes of Erin, Eth and Olive. And how did he know: "Raised them". That's all. That simple. Or so he made it sound.

The movie bin. He'd grabbed Cars 3.

"Thought you hated that movie," Jay had tried in a sort of joke. Maybe.

"H likes it," he said. "Stocking contribution for Olive's cause." He kept rooting, though and glanced at him. "Pick something," he said. "For you. For Erin. E wants a movie day."

Jay stared. "You know he has Netflix and a bunch of other streaming services, right?"

And those eyes again. "Tangible," he rasped. "Something to be said for that."

And … he was likely right. Maybe he was more than right.

The videogame section. He grabbed Forza for Eth. Jay was surprised. A glance at him.

"You two getting him the Star Wars Battlefront thing?" he asked.

Jay sputtered again. "Like I said, me and Erin—"

"It's buy two get one free," he pointed out. "Which one of these games you planning on playing with him?"

And he sputtered again. "Ah … I think Erin and I have kind of agreed I'm taking a bit of a break from videogames."

It'd gotten the loudest smack of the night. The look on his face. And he'd said too much. Way too fucking much.

But Voight left it. Because maybe he didn't need to say more. Because that look had said a lot. It'd told Jay he'd already started to tilt his hand. But then he tilted it too much.

Voight had pushed the cart toward the baby and toddler clothes section. And Jay should've just followed along. And he did. But he stopped. He stopped and started at some of those little clothes in the baby girl's section – like he'd never been in a baby clothes section before.

And Voight had seen.

"Boys are farther over," he gravelled.

But Jay knew he'd seen. He'd knew he'd seen and even though he'd taken a quick step after him, he'd staggered and slowed in the baby boy's section too. His eyes looking at the shirts and pants and bibs and onesies and burp blankets rather than following Voight directly to the toddler section. And he shouldn't have done that. Because then Voight's eyes had really set on him. Jay had felt them. And they'd looked at each other.

"Toddlers are against the back wall," he said with a gesture.

But his eyes. Hank knew. He'd seen.

Jay had fucked up.

And he was fuming at himself. Fuming so much that when they were cashing out and the fucking cashier had made the backward comment about "someone being lucky" like they were well-trained monkeys and incapable dollards, he'd lost it.

"What's that mean?" Jay had demanded at her.

And she was taken back. "Just …," she'd offered a smile to Voight at that point. "It looks like you're getting your Christmas shopping all wrapped up. It's so nice—"

"It's so nice what?" Jay had demanded harder.

"Jay," Hank had smacked at him.

But he hadn't listened. He was just … too fucking mad at himself. That he'd gone out on this fucking outing. That he'd let Voight see part of him. That he'd let down his guard. Too fucking much. In too many regards. That he'd gotten mushy and cushy and he'd shown his hand. Their hand. Erin's hand.

He'd fucked up.

"What?" he pressed at the woman. "You think a man is incapable of buying his kids Christmas presents? That he's doing his wife some big favor doing this?"

And the woman had sputtered and looked helpless at Voight.

"Halstead," Voight had gravelled harder.

"You ever stop to fucking think for a minute that maybe he's just a good dad," he said and he sputtered himself as he'd said it. 'Good dad'. And there was truth to it. And he didn't know how he felt about that. He didn't know how to be that. But he'd been following around an example and lessons and lectures all night. And now some fucking idiot at the cash register was acting like … like they both were … fucking incompetent. Like … if they couldn't handle Christmas shopping … if Jay couldn't absorb the lessons of the night that Voight had lobbing at him than how the fuck would he be a father? Was that what she was implying or seeing? When he was actually getting lessons from someone who knew something about being a 'good dad'. Not his dad. He hadn't gotten shit from his dad.

"Or that maybe his a widower. Maybe he's a single dad raising his kids. And this isn't some big favor to his wife. Maybe this is just him doing what he needs to do. And giving his kids some time and thought and memories and tradition and a fucking Christmas. After a pretty fucking shit year that-"

"Halstead," Voight had outright barked at him that time. "Go cool down. Get in the car."

And Jay had stopped. He'd stood there. He'd fumed. He's drilled eyes into that poor woman. He'd screamed internally at himself.

And he'd shoved past Voight and stormed to the car. He'd slammed the door and he beat at the dash and the visor.

"FUCK!" he growled and beat at the dash even fucking harder. Just fuck.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Okay. That's the last of a four-part Jay POV (Grown Up, Tradition, Simple Gifts and Just Fuck). They were all posted in less than 24-hours. So please go back and ensure you got to see them all.**

 **Your readership, comments, feedback and reviews are appreciated.**

 **I had intended to do a Hank POV next that continued immediately after this. I still might. But I think I might jump ahead bit and do an Erin POV and get into some of the her letting Hank and Ethan into what's going on. And a conversation with Jay.**

 **It'd be 3-4 chapters/scenes. One with a minor M at the beginning.**

 **We'll see.**


	17. Unwanted Attention

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin made a little noise, a slight catch of discomfort, and shifted slightly – away – from Jay's movements against her … on top of her, in her. But she should've calculated more how she adjusted herself – because his eyes immediately found hers.

"Are you okay?" There was even panic there. A tone that maybe he managed to hide from other people – managed to pull it off as even and honestly concerned and a simple question. But she wasn't everyone. Or anyone.

Her small noise changed to a sigh – a huff. "Jay, don't," she rasped at him. A punctuated order.

"What?" his eyes got even more concerned. His movement halted, completely stalled.

"Stop it," she said.

And again it was the wrong word choice. She knew immediately he'd taken it the way she hadn't meant it. As he shifted away from her now. Off of her, out of her.

"Jay …," she muttered under her breath, barely containing her frustration and annoyance – at herself, at him, at the whole situation.

But he just lay on his side – his erection still poking at her hip, though not as demanding as it had been before she'd used … the wrong words.

He stared at her. Flushed cheeks. That dot spreading on his forehead. The redness that spread down his neck and across his upper chest – spotted with the dampness from where her mouth and lips and tongue had been. Where they should be exploring and nipping and nuzzling as she tried to steady her breath and catch those sounds of discomfort in this overall adjustment - still.

But they weren't. Instead all either of them was getting right now was the puppy dog look.

The man. The little boy. The insecure teen. The damaged goods – who never seemed to have full confidence of what he was doing. This man who operated with this awkward uncertainty despite the demanding confidence he attempted to exude in the bedroom … in life.

Erin lifted her hand adjust some of her hair away from her face - to run her hand through it – and to try to calm herself, center herself, so she didn't get flustered with him. Because at this point – that wasn't going to accomplish anything for any of them.

"You're doing that hyper-attentive thing," she sighed at him – but firmly found his eyes.

The puppy dog look shifting to processing - and confusion. And it settled into self-consciousness. Body language that he, again, might be able to hide with someone else. But not her. Even now – with who he was and who she was and who they were. They hadn't changed that much. It hadn't been that time. They weren't that far apart in time and space.

"Hyper-attentive …?"

Erin dropped her hand away from her hair – from her face – and scrunched the sheets into her fist.

"Jay," she stressed at him. "We've been together a … long time."

A long time. For her, for him. Even in the on-again, off-again, what-the-fuck-is-this again relationship they seemed to be functioning in as an engaged 'couple'. But more time than she'd been with anyone else. In a relationship. In the bedroom. In life – in this way.

"You don't need to consistently, verbally check in with me … for every fucking little sound I make."

He didn't. As much as she wanted – needed – him to check in with her in other ways. As much as she'd learned just how much that was true since last May. So fucking true. More true than she'd wanted to admit and in ways that were still a little uncomfortable for her to accept. To give up that piece of herself – and her independence – to admit that she needed him and wanted him – to be there. To ask how she was doing. And not just ask. To actually, physically check. For her to know his hand was there to grab a hold of hers – in the good and in the bad. Because sometimes she didn't need to grab it. But she still wanted to know it was there to hold. When she wanted to. When she needed to. When he needed it too.

But right now – in the bedroom, during sex, … making love …? – she didn't need him checking in that way. At all. And even as she said it – realized it despite her frustration and annoyance with him – there was a small wave of recognition. Some quiet milepost that they'd passed when she … wasn't sure when. But she knew it wasn't just in the midst of that particular evening's cock … clit … block. Even if it was when she'd boiled over and said something – now, tonight – because she knew it was only going to become a bigger … issue … over the coming months. The coming fucking years.

Because what the fuck does sex look like when you've got life growing inside you? And what does it look like after you've pushed other life out of you? Or you've been cut open and had it pulled from you? When that life was sleeping in the next room?

She didn't know. She didn't want to think too much about it because it felt like a larger mood killer. But she did know that she didn't want it to look like … to feel like … that night. Because he was being … him.

Jay. For as good as he was in the bedroom – he was awkward. He had his practiced routines – that worked – but as soon as you had to deviate from his muscle memory and ingrained manoeuvres … then it was this. It was tonight.

And she didn't want that for the next … six months. Or eighteen years? Or … however any of this worked.

"You sounded … uncomfortable," he put to her – his eyebrows scrunching as he tried to figure out what was wrong. What could possibly be wrong now that he was out of her and she was trying to get herself – and her body – to calm the fuck down and come down … when what she should be doing in that point was heading towards cumming.

"You know I tell you when I'm not comfortable with something. When I want you to stop. You don't—"

"You said stop," he contented.

"Stop …," she gestured hopelessly at him. "This …," she sighed.

His gaze stayed on her. The confusion – because he thought he was being the 'good guy' again and she was mad at him. Only she wasn't. She was just … frustrated. On so many levels.

"You'd said before that you didn't like … what I was doing," he tried. "Before. So I thought … you were still uncomfortable … now?"

And she loosened her grip on the sheets only to press her heel back into her forehead. To try to … figure out how to communicate about this … about any of this.

It'd almost be easier if – this – was just a conversation about sex. That was usually one of their own awkward stumbling blocks in conversation. Too much … past. Baggage and scars and regrets and … trauma. Things they didn't want to get into. For themselves and for each other.

But this … it wasn't just about sex. Even if it was. It wasn't.

"I felt like you were doing push-ups over me," she muttered.

The complete lack-of contact positioning he'd picked. The uncomfortable angle they'd positioned her hips at so he apparently could avoid touching her – or crushing her. Or presumably the life growing inside her. Like them resorting to their usual comfortable routine would somehow smoother the pregnancy out of her.

Uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe it. It was just … fucking awkward. When if all she wanted out of the experience was the feeling of penetration – if she felt that was all she needed to fucking get off in any way, she could've … she had been … accomplishing that just fine without him.

And that - it wasn't what she wanted – needed – out of their limited sex life. Not right now. Maybe especially right now. When she was only seeing him once a month or so. Not when it was made worse in knowing that the past four weeks she'd been getting him more than a couple days a month – that she would get to see him, to be with him and near him, for the next week or two more – and that was just going to make the coming months even harder.

Right now, what Erin needed was to connect with him. When she wanted his strength and comfort. And to feel it. Intimately.

When she just … wanted to feel some normalcy and control and pleasure while her body still felt like her own. When her life still felt like her own. Before it all changed. More than it already had. For both of them.

Erin let her hand fall to find his eyes again. She let them soften too. Because he wasn't doing anything wrong. Not really. He was there. He was trying. She had to give him that much.

They were both … still adjusting. Still learning. They'd have to do a lot more of that.

"Let's just … take a beat," she said.

His uncertain eyes stayed on her. He stayed propped on his elbow, gazing down at her, assessing her and … all this. So she reached and stroked that scruff that he still hadn't done anything about. The scruff that he'd let grow there long enough that it was looking less like just scruff now. She could see the beard starting to come in. And she was still deciding how she felt about that. About how different he looked. Older, more mature. Handsome. But how it hinted at lack of self-care. How she worried he was trying to hide.

"Where's your head at?" she put to him, keeping her hand against his cheek.

He shrugged and gestured at her. At the tangled sheets and the discarded clothes. Though, her tank and bra hadn't made it into the pile in their rush to connect. And she weighed if that had been her decision or his. Or a combination of the both of them. And just what she – or they – were hiding or hiding from.

"Here," he tried. His tone betrayed that he knew she wasn't going to buy it. But he'd tried anyway.

She tugged at his ear a bit as she curled her fingers to run her fingers through his hair, to stroke at the usually short trim on the back of his neck and the base of his skull. But that was starting to feel longer between her fingertips too. But she only shook her head.

"Us, this …," she said and gestured her midsection that he kept trying to discreetly eye – and no longer her breasts or collarbone that he tried to catch occasional glimpses of. "Or work. Where do you want to start?"

It was his turn to make a sound and to slump back into the mattress in mild discomfort. But she only nudged closer to him, wrapping her arms around his arm and her one hand finding his while she rested her head on his shoulder and let her other arm lightly scratch her nails against the other one.

"Babe, I'm really glad you're here," she said. "But the middle of the week – just before Christmas."

He made another little noise and looked down his chest at her – at where she'd planted her chin against his breastplate to stare up at him.

"There's those storm fronts coming through," he offered – completely half-assedly. "Holidays. Voight thought you might get jammed up at the airport. Didn't want you trying to make the drive yourself. I didn't think you should road warrior it either."

"Mmm …?" she put back and raised her eyebrow at him. She knew he smelted his own bullshit on that one. She didn't know why he even tried.

He reached and pressed his fingers into his eyes, squeezing at the bridge of his nose before dropping them to look her more directly in her eyes.

"There's some bullshit going on," he provided much more matter-of-factly. That firm – straight-shooting, listen-to-me – look in his eyes that she wasn't sure she got to see even regularly in the infrequent weekends she saw him. "With Woods. And Intelligence. Adam's in deep. I don't know …," he sighed and shook his head and broke the eye contact staring at the ceiling again. "I don't know how much of a plan Voi… Hank's … got to get … any of us out of it. Adam, Intelligence. Him. And he's keeping me out of it anyway. Him and Alvin doing the thick-as-thieves thing."

Erin made a sound – an acknowledgement – and his eyes cam back to hers.

"With IA coming at me … again … he thought … told me … to take some time off. Get as far away from it as possible. So … I guess I'm not hanging out in the wind with the rest of them. But …"

"You feel like you've left them to deal with …?"

"I just feel like …," he made a noise and hit at the mattress a bit. "My fucking superior officer told me I can't do my fucking job."

She squeezed at his shoulder. "I don't think … cleaning up … Adam's or Hank's … situation is part of your job."

His eyes grabbed at hers more harshly. "They're my unit," he said. "My partners."

She reached and touched his cheek again, trying to calm him. She knew that feeling. She knew that line. She understood the thin blue line. She understood partners. And unit. And family. And police. And she knew it was … fucking complicated.

"The IA's still looking at you, Jay," she put to him a bit more gently. "He likely just didn't want extra eyes on them – when they've already got eyes on them – while they dealt with … whatever they're dealing with."

And she wished – she hoped – he understood that her not knowing what was going on was hard for her too. Not on the job. Not with her family – at home or in her old unit. Not with him. That there was so much that didn't get talked about now. Parts that got left out. And things that didn't get said. And exclusions for reasons that made sense and for ones that didn't. And that all of them hurt and were frustrating no matter the logic behind them.

That it was … hard … terrifying … to not have her finger on what the hell Hank was getting himself into anymore. To not feel the pulse of it. To not be able to help mitagate it. To worry about what impact that might have on what was left of her family – her baby brother, to Jay, to Henry – if this all blow up in his face. If he made a wrong move. Or lost his temper. Or went off the leash. If he wasn't as smart as he needed to be – or as he thought he was.

That she'd paid her debt – or at least part of it and thrown it in his face and pulled out of his life in a way that despite the repairs they'd worked on hadn't been entirely fixed – and now there were accounts that were closed. Access that she didn't have. And she was still learning how to cope and operate within that. Just another change. And another hard one.

"I've become one of those cops," he muttered. "The ones he hates. With their face in the news."

"I think if that's the way he saw it, you wouldn't be much use to his Intelligence unit," she tried.

He gave her a look – serious, self-conscious and pained. "Or he's just doing me a solid because …" and he gestured at her.

She shook her head. "You know that's not the way he operates. He knows you're good police, Jay. He knows you've got potential. You've said it yourself. He's giving you more responsibility. He's grooming you."

He made a sound and pressed the fingers into his eyes again. "Maybe he's not the right person to be grooming me for anything. Not with the way Woods … the Ivory Tower … is coming at him again right now."

Erin squeezed at his shoulder. "It's just the times, Jay. It's a societal shift. The internal audit. It's a horse and pony show. Give it eight months and the show will move onto the next station. Maybe the Ivory Tower will start doing some of the hard work for real change after the P.R. stunt is over."

He started at the ceiling. "I feel like I'm going to be a fucking casualty of the P.R.," he said.

"Jay …," she sighed.

But his eyes darted onto her like daggers. "Two complaints about me, Erin. Two. That I know of. That the Rat Squad felt they had enough on to call me in. In three fucking months."

"It's the times," she pressed. "It's not you."

She felt him exhale deeply under her. "It feels like me. I feel like …" He shook his head and stared at the ceiling again. "People around me are dying. Bystanders. C.I.s. Suspects. Perps. Just …" his voice got quieter. "There's been some bad shots."

"Chicago's—"

"A war zone," Jay near whispered. And his fingers dug into his eyes again. He reached and pressed them there. He squeezed his nose and he scrunched his eyes so tight. And Erin reached to tug his hand down and away until he looked at her. His eyes glassy and far away. "I feel like I'm back there. I've had some moments where I am. I just am."

She clutched at his hand. She held it tight – she squeezed it – trying to ground him. And trying to remind him – to show him – he wasn't alone.

"I know …," she acknowledged.

And they lay like that. They just lay there until she felt his hand clutching hers back.

"Have you … tried going back to your support group?" she ventured carefully. "A little more regularly? Do see if they're able to process some of what you're all dealing with a bit better?"

He made a little noise but kept a hold of her hand. "I just … I've gone a few times. I just … don't feel like I'm getting what I need from there right now."

She nodded and shifted to find his eyes again. To hold him a little closer. To try to let him know she was there. Even when she was all the way over here.

"Have you thought about maybe trying a therapist? For some individual sessions?"

And his hand tried to pull away from hers. He tried to go back to closing his eyes tight. But she wouldn't let him. She summoned her strength – to be stronger than his in that moment – and kept his hand in hers.

"It helps me a lot," she said. "To just try to talk some of it out and sort some of it all out."

His eyes found hers then. There was surprise in them. "You're going?"

She gave him a weak look and a little shrug. "It's a lot, Jay. All of this is a lot."

She saw the glimmer in his eyes. The look as he again tried to process and understand. To get over himself and to be the 'good guy'.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She shrugged at him again and settled a bit more against him. "I'm working really hard to be in a good place," she admitted quietly. "I'm trying."

And his arm came up around her. He held her in a way she had wished he'd held her when he came in the door. On the couch and when they'd moved to the bedroom. While he kissed her and made love to her.

But they hadn't been in that place earlier. Maybe they were now. Or at least it was … it felt … more intimate now. And her insides hummed in a different way. A better one. Maybe.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Four chapters were posted on Dec. 31 (Grown Up, Traditions, Simple Gifts and Just Fuck). Please make sure you didn't miss them.**

 **This chapter is part of a split scene (yep … apparently I am in the mood to write really long lately). So the second-half all be posted shortly — still from Erin's POV.**

 **Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	18. Keep Going

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 *****RATING WARNING: THE END OF THIS CHAPTER IS AN M. A NOTIFICATION WILL BE PLACED IN BOLD WHERE THE RATING CHANGE STARTS.*****

 *****PLEASE NOTE: This chapter is a continuation of the scene immediately before this. It was posted earlier today. Please check to make sure you didn't miss it.**

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" Jay asked Erin. It was so measured and careful and nervous all on its own.

But she shook her head against him. "No," she lied but then stilled herself. "Yes," she admitted. "A little."

And he held her again. Tighter maybe. And she … liked it. Needed it. Wanted it.

"They offered it," she whispered. She didn't know if it was to herself or to him. It was more likely to both. "And just with Ethan …"

"They can't diagnose pediatric M.S. on an ultrasound, Erin," he pressed in his own quiet whisper somewhere into the crown of her head.

"I know …," she acknowledged, still so quietly. Because it was still so hard to say out loud. "But they can – they might – see other things. And I just want to – I want us to – know what we're dealing with. Have our eyes open about it."

His eyes set on her and she found them. She saw she'd scared him. Even the speculation that something might be wrong. But how could she move beyond not thinking that something might be wrong? It was hard. It was hard to believe that this would work out as best it could. Healthy and happy and to term.

"It's not … even that," she stumbled a bit. "It's just … I remember … how scary it was when Camille had the placenta abruption and Ethan in the NICU and her in the hospital. And I know … we aren't blood but …"

"Yea …," he said and his hand gripped her shoulder even more firmly.

"And the miscarriage …," she said vacantly. "Where we are in this right now. And they offered it."

"Yea …," he said again. But there was agreement there. Agreement and shared experience.

"What's to be worried about," she tried as a quiet – a weak – attempt at levity. "Quick ultrasound. Grab some lunch. Finishing my Christmas shopping. Make a whole day of it."

"Please don't make me go Christmas shopping again," he muttered under her but he still kept his grip on her. And she smiled a little against his bare chest.

"What'd Hank get me?" she teased.

"Pots and pans," Jay put flatly. Hank's joke. His fucking annual joke. That now he'd passed onto Jay – apparently.

But she still let out a small laugh. Because somehow it was funnier coming out of his mouth. So he got a small laugh and a bigger smile and she turned her head to look up at him. At the scruff and the damage and the pain. At who he was and who he wasn't anymore. But she still smiled for him. She still smiled at him.

"I know …," she shrugged a bit.

Because they both knew that … maybe this wasn't where he thought he should be right now. But maybe he should. Maybe it made sense. Maybe it was better. A way to fill the holes. A distraction that wasn't a distraction. Because it was real. So much more real than … the kinds of things that tossed you down holes and made it hard to get out. And maybe better – healthier – than the job. Any job. Because that wasn't always the plug in the dam you needed or wanted it to be. But maybe this could be. He could be. And she could be for him too. Right now. Because it just … it felt right.

"I'm really glad you're here," she told him.

He gave her a little smile and his hand shifted to set against her belly – against the little bump that'd popped up that he'd seemed so reluctant to put any of his weight against.

"It will be good to see them again," he said. "Get some updated family photos."

She allowed a smile again and put her hand over top of his to feel at … what they'd made. What they were making. At the realization that if they did go shopping after her appointment, she should likely drag him into a couple clothing stores – that hopefully weren't New York prices or fashion sense. To try to find a dress for Ethan's Christmas Pageant and to try to find a couple shirts and pair of pants that maybe went over this and hid it a bit better. At least for a couple more weeks.

Because she felt like she'd had a bit of a jiffy pop moment that week. She didn't know what had happened. But it definitely was going to be harder to sell that she just had some bloating after tucking away an entire burrito at lunch. She wasn't even sure she could get Eth to buy that one if he took notice of the growing bump she had there – when he hugged her or flopped against her looking for his own comfort and strength and affection amidst his own fears and uncertainty.

She was trying to take some heed in the fact that he kept telling her he wanted a popcorn maker for Christmas – to make 'real' popcorn for the apparent pyjama and movie day where he was going to be allowed 'to binge as much as I want on whatever I want'. Maybe – hopefully – he'd embrace the jiffy pop she would be bringing home for the holidays.

"Do you think …?" Jay asked and looked at her before looking back to where their hands were resting – their fingers lacing.

"I doubt it," she said but stared too. Because she was wondering too – calculating too. She'd measured how this pregnancy felt different than the previous one. And she'd calculated more what that might mean for the sex? What the morning sickness meant? What this jiffy pop moment meant? "I don't think they really tell you that until around twenty weeks."

"Don't believe everything you read on Google," Jay teased into the crown of her head.

And she allowed a little smile again. "Right. Mr. Wikipedia."

"I'm pretty sure all the women on Baby Center's discussion boards will tell you that they found out at like seven weeks," he put back to her.

"The internet and social media," she said, "the supremely accurate place to gather intelligence."

"A whole new frontier …," he said.

She rubbed her cheek against his chest. "I think I would've felt more confident if you could cite a PBS documentary as your source."

"Mmm …," he acknowledged. "I can Google that shit later. Pretend I watched it."

She allowed another small sound of amusement. "I would've loved to see your bibliography on your high school essays after that comment."

"Like teachers really bothered checking that shit back then," he said.

"Mmm ..," she grunted. "They did at Ignatius. I think I had a three day suspension and a three week grounding to prove that."

It was him who made an amused sound that time. "What'd you put in the bibliography?"

"I think it was more I ripped like a paragraph … or twelve … out of some fish paper that Camille had left open on the computer screen. Just to punch up my biology paper a bit."

"Smart …," Jay mouthed.

"Mmm …," she shrugged. "It wasn't like it was published. I got her work exposure."

"Right," he said. "She should've thanked you."

She gave his stomach and little smack and grinned up at him. "Exactly. Thank you."

He grinned back – widely – and she let herself settle against him again. She waited as his arm wrapped around her again.

"I hope they can see," he whispered against her. "That the tech or the doctor is able to tell us."

She smiled a bit. At him. And at the thought. "You really want to know?"

"Hell, yea …," he said and gazed at her. "Don't you?"

"Mmm …," she acknowledged. Because she did and didn't. The concept of knowing scared her too. But she also knew it'd make it functionally easier. And maybe just … more real.

"We don't have to know if you don't want to …," Jay offered and held at her again.

She shrugged a little. "Let's just … see what they can see …"

He nodded. He nodded and got quiet. They both did. For a long time. And she just listened to his breathing and his heart. She missed that. A lot. Forget pillows. He'd become a pillow. And her white noise machine. And her heating blanket on the cold, lonely nights. And now … her bed … her life … it just felt colder and lonelier without him. Even on the nights he didn't sleep and she didn't. On the night terror and nightmares. At least someone was there. And she missed that too.

Someone to bare witness. All of them having someone to bare witness. To each other. To life. To the big moments and little moments and shared moments. And all the fucking bullshit in between.

"Do you think …" he started and he phased out before he finished his thought. So Erin waited. She expected him to finish finding his words and to put the rest of the sentence out there. But he didn't. He'd edited himself. And she turned to look up at him.

"Do I think what?"

He exhaled again. "That we know how to be parents?"

She smiled weakly at him and tilted her head, raising her eyebrow. "No."

His eyes scrunched up. "Wait. What?"

"Jay, no one knows what the hell they're doing," she said.

"Except Voight," he muttered at her.

She shook her head. "Jay," she sighed at him. "He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He's just had … twenty-six years more practice at faking it than we have. He just … rolls with the punches. Keeps trying despite all the mistakes he makes."

He stared at her. The self-consciousness and uncertainty played across his whole being again.

"Ethan has him on such a pedestal," Jay muttered. "He's just … completely in love with the guy. Adores him."

"He's his dad, Jay," she sighed at him. "He's what he got. You're going to have the chance at that too."

"My dad's what I've got and …" he shook his head.

Erin reached and gripped at his shoulder again, her chin resting back on his chest while she watched him. There was tension and anger brewing up inside him again – not at her. But she wasn't sure it was directed at Hank or his own father either. It was at himself.

"You haven't told me enough about—"

"I don't want to talk about it," Jay interjected.

"Okay …," Erin allowed.

"He was an asshole," he pressed harshly. "To us. To his wife. When she needed him. When I needed him. That's all you need to know."

She ran her thumb against his bicep, trying to get him to calm. "Okay …," she allowed again. "But maybe … at some point in the future … after you've made some of your own mistakes as a father … you'll decide …". She shook her head and shrugged. "That maybe you want to be more forgiving and try again to have some kind of relationship with him."

"I don't have a relationship with him," Jay muttered. "That's the whole point. I never have."

"Jay, you aren't your father," she stressed at him. "And you aren't going to be your father."

They'd had this conversation before. But she got the sense they'd need to have it on repeat over the coming months. Maybe the coming years. She knew she needed to recite the mantra to herself. She wasn't Bunny. She wouldn't be Bunny. Nurture over nature. She had a family. She had examples. She'd cut the cancer from her life. She'd embraced the good that was in front of her. And they'd embraced her. The same could be true for Jay. He just needed to keep telling himself that too. To start believing it.

"Only now I'm … supposed to figure out how to be a father."

And he would figure it out. Because he was more – he was better – than he imagined. Better than how he was raised. He was his own man. His own person. And he'd be the kind of father he wanted to be. That he needed to be – that their kids needed as they grew up. Because he had the capacity to react and adjust and love and give. So he'd be alright. She believed it. She had to trust in it. So she'd repeat it. Over and over again.

Erin ran her hand up to hold at his shoulder. "Jay, you know how to be a father. I've seen you with Ethan. And Henry. And kids on the job."

"It's different," he said. "They aren't mine. And they aren't babies. I don't know if I … I don't know anything about babies. I don't think I'm a baby person."

She smiled a little bit at that and raised any eyebrow at him. "You think I'm a baby person?" He looked at her. "Do you think Hank is a baby person?"

"I've seen the way he … fucking dotes on Henry," he contended.

Erin raised her eyebrow at him. "Because Henry is his grandson. Because Ethan, Justin, me. We're his kids."

"He's good with kids," Jay muttered. "They respond to him."

Erin reached and nudged at his chin to get him to look at her. "And they respond to you too. Maybe you aren't a 'baby person'. I'm not either. But I know from Ethan … from Henry … I'm an Ethan person. And I'm a Henry person. So I'm a pretty sure we'll be our kids people."

He sighed at her and his hand – his fist – knocked against the mattress next to him. "That's the thing too," he said and really found his eyes on his own that time. "You just sound … so fucking confident about all of this, Erin. I'm shitting myself. I feel like I'm back in Chicago losing my mind and you—"

"I'm terrified, Jay," she blurted. It came out more abruptly and more harshly and more honestly than she meant it too. But it stopped him talking. And maybe that's what she wanted too. Or maybe it was that she just wanted to get it out there. To be honest about it. And she felt her eyes glass with that honest. She bit her lip to try to keep them there. "I'm terrified," she said again a bit more quietly – evenly.

She was. She tried for her brave face. She tried for her distraction in her day-to-day. In the job and her files and her paperwork. She focused on the short-term and the long-term and kept looking to her goals.

She called her baby brother and did homework with him over Skype and FaceTime and iMessage. Or just sent silly messages and emojis and played whatever stupid game it was that he wanted her to join in. She only asked how he was doing and didn't brow beat him about it – no matter how sick and pale he looked. No matter if his eyes sunk lower while they talked until he said he wanted to watch TV – which she knew meant sleep on the touch – or until he fell asleep without realizing, the phone or iPad falling down onto his face or blanket or comforter until she cut out the call. Though, sometimes she let it run – listening to his quiet, muffled breathing. To ensure he still was. Because one day he wouldn't.

And she was so fucking scared too that she wouldn't be back to Chicago by the time that happened. That she wouldn't be there for him. And Hank would be alone with that. Alone listening to that last breath. And she didn't want that for either of them.

She tried to talk to Hank. But he was awful at the phone. And worse at texts. And Jay was nearly as bad. That they both seemed to be working more and more evenings and lights and sometimes she'd go days without hearing from both of them – or either of them. That she'd get a glossed over briefing of what was going on from Ethan or Olive. Who weren't able to really tell her anything.

Not that Hank or Jay did either.

She felt alone.

She felt her body changing. She felt life growing inside her. And she felt sick to her stomach – not just because of the never-ending morning sickness. Because she didn't have a clue what her life would look like in half-a-year or how she'd do it. How to be a mother. How to even be ready to be a mother. How to pick cribs and strollers and baby clothes.

How to provide a life that was structured and stable and supportive. Because it all felt so unstable right now. So influx.

She didn't know what her life looked like. Or what her relationship looked like. Or what her family looked like.

She felt like she was a castaway on a remote island. Like she was in some kind of excel.

And she was terrified that because of it – she was somehow going to turn out like Bunny. That her lack of stability would somehow translate into measurably the same or worse than what she'd grown up in. And that's not what she wanted at all.

It wasn't what she imagined or hoped for. And even though she wanted this – even though she was going to do this - she felt so very alone and so very scared whenever she let herself think about any of it. But all she could think about was … all of it.

And Jay's face changed again – shock and hurt and merging fear – and he reached and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face against him. As she felt him and smelled him and tried to absorb all the things he was able to offer – more than she knew he fought he was offering. But she'd rather take – feel – what he could provide than to not have him at all. To be alone in this.

"It's going to be okay," he promised against somewhere into her hair at the side of her head. "We'll figure it out."

And that sounded so good. It was what they'd promised each other before. They'd said it so many times in their mess of a relationship. All the ups and downs. The nonsensicalness of it.

And Erin really wanted to believe it now. To believe that they would figure it out. That THEY would figure it out. Them. That there was a them. That he wanted a them – still. That they were getting closer to that being a reality – again. One they both wanted and felt was achievable. Not just achievable – doable. That they really could figure it out. Because Erin didn't know who else she could figure any of this out with.

"I'm so scared," she admitted now that she didn't have to look at him. Now that she didn't have to see that uncertainty looking back at her. "I don't know how it's going to work out. And I'm … I'm here. And you're not. And …" she shook her head against him – trying to quickly wipe the tears that had slipped out into his skin in the hopes he wouldn't notice them. Though, he undoubtedly had. He held her tighter. "You're dealing with … everything there."

"I'm okay," he whispered again.

"You aren't," she said. "And Hank's not. And Ethan's not. He's dying."

His arms gripped her even tighter. "He's not dying, Erin."

"Don't lie to me," she hissed against him in broken staccato as she tried to keep the tears inside.

"I'm not," Jay said. "We're all dying. But Eth's fine. Right now. Death is not even remotely immediate right now."

"You don't know that," she muttered. "You don't even go over anymore."

"I'm working on being better about that too," he hushed her. "I saw him twice this week."

"I feel like no one's telling me anything," she gravelled against his chest. "That you all just want me out here … sorting out … this. Alone. I feel really alone."

Jay shook his head and held her. "Babe, you aren't alone. You keep telling me that. And it's the same. If you … if you want to come home, now, I hundred percent support that. I think Hank will too. You know he's going to have a fucking lecture for me after we tell him. He's going … he's not going to approve of me letting you do this over here alone."

She shook her head and raised her head a bit to swipe at her eyes. "We need the money," she said. "The benefits. The job."

He reached and ran his finger down her cheek – catching a stray tear she'd missed.

"We'll figure all that out too," he said.

She swiped at her tears a bit more and took a shaky breath, forcing herself to talk. "I'm alright. I'll be alright. I'll just … stick to the plan."

He shifted to sit up with her, though, and gripped at finger tips. "You're allowed to not be alright, Erin," he said. "This is … a lot. I know. I get it."

But she just sucked in another breath and settled back down into the bed. She brought the sheet around her. And Jay stared at her until he settled too. But his eyes stayed on her even though she stared at the ceiling. In that shitty little dated closet of an apartment. When she could be … in her own. In her – their – townhouse. When she could have Hank's house barely more than a mile away. Her own bed. And books and records and pillows and food that made sense. And her people. People that made sense too.

"I'm just … really glad I've got a week off," she said. "To come home. To be with you. To see Eth."

Jay nudged a little closer to her – his elbow abutting hers. "I'm really glad you'll be home too. And Eth can't stop talking about it."

She swiped at her eyes again in still trying to steady herself. It didn't really work. So instead she rolled back against Jay. She let him put his arm around her again.

"He's just motoring about Christmas," she whispered. "Not me."

Jay's lips pressed somewhere into the top of her hair again. "Yea, right," he teased quietly. "If you say so."

She smiled a little against his chest. "I'm more afraid about how he'll react when we tell him than Hank."

Erin had tried to imagine how her little brother might react but couldn't. In her fantasy he was going to be over the moon excited and happy. But she doubted that would be the reality.

Ethan hadn't be overly excited about Justin and Olive having a baby. She knew it was different circumstances. And she knew that Ethan had warmed up to both Henry and Olive. But it still didn't bode well for how he might take it. Or how his teenaged – brain damaged, sick, still a boy – mind might process it.

She thought she could talk it through with him if he had any sort of 'sibling' rivalry qualms. If there was some jealous or worry about shared attention. But she was terrified too that he might think she was pre-emptively trying to replace him in some way. And then she was terrified in another way that her having children of her own – especially if things took a turn and took a turn quickly – that she might not have as much time to spend with her brother. Or to be there for him or for Hank. Or to be there for her own children.

She was scared too about what the loss would do to her. As a person and as a mother. Or if it happened during the pregnancy – what the grief would do to the life growing inside her. She was under enough stress as it was. It had to have a physiological impact. And what about a long-term impact after their birth? As they grew? Or what if it was so traumatic what if it caused a pre-term labor or a late-term miscarriage?

What if this impacted her relationship with Ethan – negatively. What if he didn't want her around or to be around her. What if he became enraged at her again. If he felt lost and abandoned and alone again too. When all she wanted to do was to get home and to hold her little brother. To cuddle with him. To take him in for his labs and appointments and sit next to him and to hold his hand when he let her. To hug him when he let her – hello and goodbye and just because. To drop him off and pick him up at school and his activities and his tutor. To get to argue with him about homework and chores and allowance. To be silly with him. To read with him. And play videogames with him. And listen to music with him. And walk his smelly dog with him. And to watch his stupid-ass shows with him. And to talk movies and the '90s and things she didn't even remember from them but pretended to – Wiki'ed for him anyways – so they could be silly.

Jay held at her again. His one hand on her shoulder and the other drawing small patterns near the small of her back.

"I don't know how he's going to take it," Jay admitted.

"I hope he's not mad at me," Erin whispered.

She felt Jay shake his head. The muscles rippled down his chest with it. "We may have to talk him through it some but I don't think he'll be mad," he said. "Maybe Hank. But with my fuck-up, at least he'll have time to adjust to the idea and be pissed off without us in front of him."

Erin sighed and gripped a bit at his side, running her fingers against the soft skin there near his last rib. One of Jay's mildly ticklish spots – at least when she put her mouth there.

"Looking at baby clothes when you walk through the baby clothes section doesn't remotely count as telling Hank," she muttered.

"I randomly went off at the cashier who pretty much just wished us a merry Christmas," he said.

Erin smiled weakly at that and shifted to raise her eyebrow at him. "And that might have more to do with why he suggested you take a few days off – rather than … whatever it is that he's doing."

Jay made a sound. It wasn't disagreement. It just was. And Erin adjusted back to stare down his chest again. To swipe her thumb along his tight abdominal muscles. He felt a bit bonier than she remembered. Than before.

"If he's figured it out, it's because of me turning down wine at Thanksgiving," she said.

Or just because Hank was Hank. He had a sixth sense about … things. His gut. And in some ways – about this – she didn't really care if he knew or didn't. He'd know eventually. And He knew enough – was smart enough – that it wasn't something he'd broach until she broached it with him. It was her personal, private business. Her personal, private time. Her life. He only got to have so much say in it – no matter who he was and what he was to her. She was an adult.

Jay shrugged under her. "Maybe he just thinks you're taking a break from alcohol while you work on you. You don't like drinking much in front of him anyway. Since …"

He didn't need to finish it. And she was glad he didn't. Because there were parts of her past self she was having to let go of. To not dwell on. Because thinking about them too much made her wonder again if she was really suited to be a mother. If she'd straightened herself out enough to be ready for this. And to stay out of a hole – when her world fell apart again.

"I haven't had coffee the last two times I've been home," she muttered. "Even Ethan noticed that."

And she could tell he smiled a bit. She could tell too he was forming some sort of sass. So she cut him off – before he could get the upper hand, even though she sort of would've liked to hear what he might've come up with.

"And he doesn't have anything to be mad about," she interjected.

"Timing …" Jay provided quietly.

But they both knew that. It was part of what terrified her. All the elements around it were what continued to perpetrate that terror. What made it all so scary. So much more scary than she thought it was supposed to be for … normal people. But they didn't do normal.

"Fuck timing," she mumbled and moved to find his eyes again. "You think him and Camille had great timing popping out Ethan when they were forty-two? Or that Justin and Olive had anything resembling sensible timing with Henry? Hank knows how … this stuff works."

"You mean he knows about us?" Jay teased gently and held her.

She moved her eyes to him and raised his eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to tell him."

"Fuck," Jay said and lulled his head back a bit. "I guess we should've told him before I knocked you up."

"Maybe …," Erin acknowledged and settled her head back down, staring down his chest. Staring at the way the sheets had wrapped and sagged around his waist, showing off what he was packing. Though, it wasn't anywhere near as prominent of display as earlier. But she still snaked her hand down and lightly brushed her fingers there. "Now he'll likely want to castrate you."

Jay made a small sound as her fingers teased at him. He fidgeted just slightly. "Maybe not," Jay said. "I've heard hearsay out of you about him wanting more than one grandkid."

She made a little noise of acknowledgement. Hank would be getting that. But she wasn't in the mood to engage in banter – or any other kind of talking – right now. But she did turn her head – she found his eyes – and gave him a silent lesson on how to get consent and permission and to check-in without using words. She got it, though. His eyes met hers and then his head settled back into the pillow – and he let her stare at him and her hand in her careful movements. A practiced and negotiated routine that had taken a different level of communication and tutoring to get him to show her – and let her learn – what he liked and what he could tolerate without him triggering or just freaking out on her.

 *****BEGINNING OF M RATING *****

There wasn't any of that that night, though. Not as he grew in her hand. Not as she ran her fingers and barely scratched and traced her nails down his inner thighs and his ball sac. As she cupped them. And kissed at his abdomen and moved her lips along his perturbing ribs. Not as she measured his breathing and his heart rate and his sounds – and him. As his one hand played at stroking her back and shoulders and ran his fingers through her hair. While his other hand restlessly clenched – but he still didn't know what to do with it besides that.

Until he was full and hot and hard and heavy in her hand. Until she lifted her head slightly and kissed in the middle of his sternum and found his heavy eyes gazing down at her. She let go of him and brushed her hand at his shoulder a bit. She kissed his neck and his jaw line. And she gave him a thin smile – for the man he was. And who she wasn't giving up on. Because he didn't give up on her. Even when he was hurting and trying to find his way out of his own dark tunnel. But she could tell he'd made himself spot the light. And he was making himself keep moving.

"Jay, I really want to get off tonight," she told him directly. "I need to."

He gave a nod and shifted. The hyper-attentiveness again. The one that even though it could annoy the fuck out of her sometimes – it also made him a decent and giving lover. The same hyper-attentiveness that she knew would make him a decent and giving – if not a somewhat, at times, over-protective and hyper-vigilante – father. But she was only … split … in her interest in thinking about either thing right now. They were related and not.

She knew that her cue and his reaction – his movement – meant he was more than willing to get her off right then. That he'd let her get on her back. That he'd get between her legs. And that – again through some of his practiced manoeuvres – he'd help her get to an orgasm in relatively short order.

But that wasn't exactly what she wanted or needed that night and she put her hand out – pressing it into his shoulder – to stop his movement. He gazed at her, settling back down. The assumption on his face was that she was going to get on top and he was weighing his willingness to participate in that that particular night. It wasn't the best sign for what she was going to put to him next – but she did anyway.

"Would you be willing to try a little different position?" she asked.

He gazed at her. "So you were uncomfortable," he said – maybe a little too self-righteously.

She raised her eyebrow at it. A warning. "Not really," she said. But then checked herself. And gestured down her own body. "There's just extra blood flow down there and pressure on my bladder. It … doesn't … uncomfortable isn't the right word. It's just different."

His eyes stayed on her. She could see the processing and the weighing again. Him trying to figure out a solution. Or again planning on spending the next six-months of their sex life holding himself in a full-body plank above her.

"We should just …," she sighed and shook her head. "I know … behind isn't … either of our … preferred. But there's going to be a point that if we want to get laid, Jay …"

He stared at her. More processing. She glanced at his erection – clocking whether this was really them reaching the end of any kind of discussion about this anyway.

"I don't know if I'm in the right headspace for … lack of eye contact," he managed to get out. But the way he said it, she knew that even saying it might've nudged him toward the wrong headspace.

She touched his cheek and leaned in to find his mouth. She kissed him. She kissed him long and deep. And he opened to her. He joined in and pulled her closer and more eagerly. And she smiled into it. So did he. She felt him relax. And maybe so did she.

So she backed off. She kept her hand on his cheek again and looked him in the eye. "There will be eye contact," she promised.

She adjusted herself. She watched as he watched. The unsure teenager again. The awkward self-consciousness where she could tell he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do right then. But she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing either. She was near certain this wouldn't be a recommended option later in pregnancy either. But at least it was a starting point of them … trying to be comfortable with something different. Them … accepting yet another change that was being imposed on them. That was forcing them to stare some of their baggage in the eye – and to put it down. Or at least figure out a way to work around it.

Erin grabbed at his hip as she settled next to him. He gave her a confused look.

"On your side," she instructed.

He listened but still looked at her for some kind of guidance. But he kept his mouth shut that time. He let her adjust them and position them. Let her nudge up to him and tilt near him – to drape her one leg over him even though the twist in her spine protested just slightly but not comfortably. And any discomfort was outweighed by the fact he was right there. That she could see him and feel him and smell him. That his entire body as warm and taunt against her back. That his hand was already playing circles on her hip. That his lips – and his beard – were grazing at her shoulder and finding her neck –and just the right spot there. So Erin looked up to nod at him, to give him permission to reach between them and enter her.

The crooked, twisted position. But their eyes on each other. So on each other that she didn't have to tell him to kiss her.

Jay leaned over her himself and found her mouth. It was deep. Their mouth and breathing locked as he rocked in shallow, jerky, awkward strokes as he tried to figure out the movement and rhythm and angle in their slight contortion. A break from their routine. A new-to-them moment.

His hand gripped at her draped thigh to steady himself and to pull her to him and with him. His tongue pressed into her mouth. Their lips parting and grabbing at each other urgently. And his hand moving. His fingers finding her clit. And she grasped slightly into their mouths. And felt him smile.

She felt him break away from the kiss just for a moment. To look her in the eyes and smile more. To look down and move his hand for only a moment to – to push up her tank a bit and again look at the growing little bump they'd made there. But his hand returned to her clit as his mouth returned to hers. And he played at her. Erin twisting more and more to grab at the back of his head to demand his mouth and access more fully. Even as she felt her breathing change against hers. And his hers. Because his hand and his fingers and what they were doing. And she tried to arc against him – in that position. To feel more of his skin and him and that hand and those fingers. But instead she settled to reach for – grab and grip at – his bicep of the hand that was working her so quickly toward what she'd told him he wanted.

Where his movements felt so different against her swollen and sensitive nub. Where his thrusts inside her felt so oddly different too. So shallow and him teasing her in rapid entrances where she knew he was hardly in her but he was there. Only for him to hold her and press to firmly and she could feel all of him there. Everywhere. Against her and over her and in her. Hitting at her in different ways in this different angle and different consistent touch of skin against skin.

It happened so quickly. So differently than she was used to. She hadn't even felt all her usual cues. Her body changed – different. And she gasped – grunted and moaned all at the same time – into his mouth and squirrelled as she tried to figure out how to twist and turn and grab and hold onto him. But he held her. He pulled her closer as she felt herself spasm around him. Only them it was him who made a noise – his noise and pressed over and against her in a different way while her body was still making its own involuntary movements. While she was still trying to find a way to center herself. But she didn't want to because she also just wanted to stay in that moment with him.

His breathing was heavy. He panted over top of her. Their swollen lips barely parted. And only parted for seconds before they kissed and broke and kissed and broke. Hearts pounding still. Her breathing still ragged. Sweat – and salt sweet. Sticky, wet and warm. And just … a fucking pool of …

"Wow," he said. Wow. A big fucking pool of wow. And the way he said it - it wasn't self-conscious or confused. It was just a statement. He smiled at her. So big. So fucking big.

He didn't need to say more. It was painted all over him. All over both of them. Wow was enough. Because their nearly four years of practiced manoeuvres and comfortable routines hadn't gotten them there before. Not at the same time. Not together.

It seemed like a myth. A faked reality that didn't exist in the reality they operated in.

But there it was. Right there. Right now. Between them – and their broken, sweaty, contorted, spent bodies.

"Keep going …" she breathed at him.

And she didn't have to tell him again that time either. He thrust. And his face contorted slightly with the pleasurable discomfort of his own over-sensitive nerve-endings and his erection that likely wanted a bit of a break. His own contortion act and spend energy and awkward efforts to find a pace and rhythm in this new angle.

But she asked. And he did. He kept going. His eyes on her and then his mouth returned to hers. And they kissed. And they smiled. She could feel that. She could feel it and her own hyper-sensitivity playing between discomfort and pleasure. But she didn't care. Not too much. Because something about it still felt nice. And it was with him.

And Erin thought … now … a lot of this … everything … it was … it was just going to be about finding suitable adjustments. About making some contortions. About dealing with some discomfort – so their could be pleasure … together.

And mostly … it was just going to be about … keeping on going. And she thought – she knew – they both knew how to do that.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **The first part of this scene was posted earlier today. It's the chapter immediately before this. Please make sure you check it out.**

 **Your readership, comments, feedback and reviews are much appreciated.**


	19. Gift of Time

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin glanced over at the plastic Playskool Millennium Falcon toddler playset that Jay was holding out for her examination.

"I already got your Christmas present," she put to him. And smiled. Because she could immediately tell it'd gotten to him. He didn't entirely like the sarcasm. Only it wasn't that sarcastic. She was pretty sure he'd only too happily accept at Millennium Falcon under the Christmas tree.

But he wasn't laughing. Jay have her a tilted head. That look of his. "For Henry," he said.

But Erin shook her head. "He doesn't know what Star Wars is."

The head stay tilted and the sass got more intense. "He presently lives with your brother. He knows what Star Wars is."

"It's plastic," she muttered.

"Of course it's plastic," he muttered and stared at it again with quiet awe. "I would've killed for one of these as a kid."

"Olive doesn't like plastic toys," Erin provided. And picked up another box and searched for it's "Made In" label. "Or ones made in China …" she plopped it back down. She didn't know what the hell kind of toy wasn't made in China anymore.

"She trained him to ask for Cars for Christmas," Jay muttered right back at her – still gazing longingly at that toy box. "He's going to get plastic toys."

"Not necessarily," Erin grumbled and gestured back at the $250 wood car – CARS – table with it's accompanying fucking $15 each wooden characters that were inside the door of the ridiculously over-priced – and so fucking New York – toy store they'd stopped in before trying to find something edible in that area in the city.

Jay glanced at it too. The distaste creased across his face. "Okay, seriously, if that's what she got him for Christmas, we are absolutely telling her that she can afford to hand us the whole fucking mortgage and condo fee payment every month. No more of this starving student, single mother, daycare costs so much bullshit."

Erin just cocked her head at him for that outburst. It wasn't that she didn't agree with him. It was that he'd reached about Ethan's level of filtering. And if that kind of thing was coming out of his mouth on a regular basis at work – or at some random cashier in a Target store – then she was starting to get a better sense about the why behind Hank telling to cool his heels for a few days.

And her look must've said that too – because he went back to gazing intently at the toy.

"We could get this," he said and looked at her – he tried to make it look teasingly but she saw the hopefulness in his eyes. And she watched him gesture at her mid-section. "For … you know …"

Erin cocked her eyebrow at him. "I'm not inflicting Star Wars on my kids."

His head tilted at her again. "You like Star Wars," he provided.

"No," she said directly. "You like Star Wars. I tolerate Star Wars. For you. It's on my list."

"What list?" he pressed – giving her way more eyebrow.

She turned away, again browsing the aisle of overpriced toys – trying to find something that screamed Henry that would fit into Olive's paradigms.

"My list of things I tolerate about you," she said. "Because I maybe, sort of love you. But things I feel absolutely do not love about you enough to feel the need to pass on to another living breathing human being."

He stared at her a bit. "Maybe I have a list too," he said.

Erin shrugged. "I'm sure you do."

The stare stayed on her and the toy got put back on its spot on the shelf. "Okay, I'll bite. What else is on this list?"

She turned back to him and raised her eyebrow. "Hospital corners," she said.

"That is an art," Jay contended. "And a valuable life skill."

"Mmm …," Erin allowed.

"You know what's also a life skill," he said. She gave him a glance. "Cleaning your fucking hair out of the tub drain. And off the shower stall walls. Your lack of bathroom cleanliness. My list."

"Mmm …," Erin grunted and shrugged. "Your shoe collection."

"I do not have a shoe collection," he protested.

Erin raised her eyebrow. "You own more shoes than me, Jay."

"You need different shoes for different things," he argued. "That's just common sense."

"I'm pretty sure your running shoes could also be your gym shoes – and your boxing shoes."

He shook his head. "No. Indoor, outdoor," he explained evenly with a finger shake. "Different treads. Different weights. Different lacing."

"Mmm … hmm …," Erin said. "A shoe collection."

"Work out equipment," Jay punctuated at her.

Erin only raised her eyebrow again and kept going down the aisle. He followed a little closer.

"Okay," he said. "What else?"

"Al's Italian Beef," she said.

"That is a Chicago institution," he said. "You are not going to even try to argue that Al's is not on your Top 10 of places to eat in the real Chicago."

"Mmm …," she put to him again and looked at him. "And our bathroom. It smells like the real Chicago after you finally manage to clear that 'sandwich' out of your system."

"Oh, well if we're going to play the numbers on the bathroom game," he said and she turned to give him a swat in the chest before he pushed it too far. But he only smiled. "Camille's speciality. Sunday night roast at Hank's." He made a face. The digits was genuine.

And she tried to hide her smile. Until she laughed. "It was her speciality. Not his."

"He's got to stop selling it as her specialty with what he's serving. It's like speaking ill of the dead," Jay said.

"It's not that bad," Erin muttered.

"It's not that good either," Jay provided.

She allowed a little smile and shrugged. "Really think we could do any better?"

Jay shrugged at her. "Corned beef and cabbage. Throw in some boiled potatoes. So, yes. Yes, I do. Am I allowed to pass on that?"

She allowed him a small smile and reached to hook her finger around his pinky. "You're allowed to pass on whatever you want," she assured. "Even Star Wars."

He gazed at her. And she did too.

"But I think we can find other things to spend our money on rather than have a piece of plastic sit in the back of the closet for however many years," she added.

"Or … could start them young …," he suggested with a smile and moved to grip at her hand more.

She made a little noise and tugged out of it a bit, but he kept a hold of it. Following after her, as they gazed at all the toddler toys.

"So Hank really didn't buy anything for Henry at Mrs. Tiggley Winkles?" Erin asked.

Jay shrugged. "It looked like he just got a a couple fidget-type puzzles for Eth," he said. "He had some list from Eth's people at RIC."

Erin made a sound of acknowledgement. "So he didn't get Henry a toy this year?"

Jay shrugged at her again – but stayed next to her. "What I saw was skates and a helmet. And some clothes, which he made sure to point out he was only getting so you wouldn't nag him about getting the kid clothes."

"He's a grandpa," Erin said. "He's supposed to get clothes."

"You really think Hank knows anything about clothing a toddler?" Jay put to her.

"What's to know," she glanced at him. "You go into the clothing section. You find his size. You pick something cute."

"See," Jay said, "that's likely where you lose him. Because Hank and cute? Hank and fashion sense, period? Have you taken a moment to reflect on what that proposed shopping method has done to yours and Eth's fashion sense?"

She glanced at him and raised her eyebrow. "Says the man who has thermal Henley's in every shade of grey for each day of the week? List."

He looked right back. "Forever plaid. All three of you."

She made a sound and again tugged away from him – but he still kept a hold and followed along.

"I have no idea what to get him," Erin muttered. "Olive's so granola about some of this stuff."

"Maybe that's why Hank didn't go for a toy this year," Jay said. "He doesn't seem like a toy guy anyway. What I saw – what I've seen other Christmases and birthdays – he's all about practical."

"Yea …," Erin acknowledged. It wasn't just gifts – it was life. Hank was practical. It was just how he operated.

"What about Play-Doh?" Jay suggested and pointed at the shelf.

She squinted at it – and the $25 price tag for a box that didn't look like it held much. "Play-Doh's a pain in the ass to clean up," she mumbled but still tilted at the box anyway. Because she remembered playing hours of Play Doh with Ethan when he was little. "Olive probably has some gluten-free, dye-free, edible homemade recipe."

Jay made a sound and stared at the box too. "We aren't going to be that fucking ridiculous, right?"

Erin snorted and looked at him. "No." She didn't need to say more.

Jay squeezed at her hand a bit. "You think you're going to want to tell him … and Eth and Olive … while you're home? Or you want to wait a bit longer?"

She made a little sound at that and tugged him down the aisle a bit more.

She knew … she knew that they'd walked out of that appointment … feeling differently than before they'd gone in. Again. It'd been … exciting. And it'd made it more real. So much more real.

It was so … strange to see them on that screen. They looked so much more like … what a baby is supposed to look like. To be told they were now the size of a lime. To see them moving. Arms and legs and turning and bobbing around. To hear the heart beats galloping along.

And to see more than that. To see and hear enough for it to be even more real. More scary and terrifying and exciting. And just so fucking real.

That her heart had been beating a lot with them. And she knew Jay's was too. She could near feel his through his palm as he clutched at her hand and stared at the screen. When his rapid-fire questions at the technicians in those first measurements were taken but then died as he just stared completely transfixed at the screen. He was so quiet that Erin had actually had to ask him at one point if he'd heard what their tech had said. If he was alright. If he had more questions.

He'd said no. But as they rode the elevator down and left the clinic, he'd repeated himself like he was a broken record player. This scared, excited, nervous staccato falling off his lips. It'd fallen silent again as they got onto the street – and in public – but then he'd reached for her hand, again and again, squeezing it before releasing it in trying to reel in his PDA.

But she understood. What he was saying and asking in that moment. There was this desire to keep their secret. And to protect themselves and maybe like not saying anything too soon would protect the pregnancy too. But there was also this … want to start sharing. To bring other people into the excitement. Even though there were scary elements and unknown complications to how all this would work out. To how even the people closest to them would react. To the kinds of questions they were going to be asked. And other realities they were going to have to face in getting their lives and relationship in order – sorted to whatever it was going to be for now – soon.

"I think I might want to tell them," Erin said. "But maybe … I'll see … where everyone's heads is act. If Eth's having a rough week …"

Jay made a sound of acknowledgement but looked at her. "We should likely … start figuring out a timeline on when we should tell them, though."

"Are you going to tell Will?" she asked. "Now?"

He made a little sound of his own and picked up another toddler toy to gaze at. It was wood. And overpriced.

"I'll tell him," Jay said. "I'm just … not sure when I want to tell him yet."

"And your dad?" she pressed carefully.

The toy got put back on the shelf. "I haven't decided … how I'm going to deal with that."

She just gripped at his hand. "Has Hank said anything about if he's having Al and Meredith or Platt and Mouch over for Christmas dinner?" she asked.

She didn't care if they were. Because they were family. But she knew they'd have to time when Ethan got told around when he'd next likely see anyone to blab to. Because this was going to get out. Erin would prefer it get out on her terms – on Jay's terms – not on her motor-mouth baby brother's terms. To spread by station house gossip – that as much as Platt said she didn't participate in … well … that only held so much water.

Jay shrugged. "Not really the kind of stuff we've talked about lately." She stared at him and he let out a bit of a sigh. "It's more … direct and indirect lectures about … me … digging holes for myself."

"I've heard that one," she said and squeezed his hand harder.

He sighed and looked at her more directly. "The night he dragged me out Christmas shopping. I could tell. He was counting up my bottles. And stepped into the bathroom."

"Checking for drugs," Erin acknowledged.

"I'm not on drugs," he muttered.

"You have been drinking more lately, Jay," she said.

He shrugged and picked up another Melissa and Doug toy that was just as overpriced as the previous one. "So has he." She squeezed his hand tighter and he looked at her. "Don't worry," he said quietly and looked away from her. "It's not going to become a list item. My dad … there was always some kind of open bottle in the house … his hand. I'm not going to … be that numb that I'm cold and selectively blind."

Erin kept a hold of his hand. "Are you taking any prescriptions right now?" she asked. "To help …?"

He didn't respond. So she just squeezed his hand again and he glanced at her.

"He might've been checking that too," she said. "Not necessarily because he thinks you're abusing them – but because you should be careful about mixing that sort of thing with alcohol, Jay. You know that."

"Yea … I know that …," he muttered at her and tried to drop her hand.

But that time she didn't let him. Instead she guided him over to the section labelled as "Green Toys". They didn't look very fun for what they wanted for them. But they both stared at them anyway.

"Has Hank told you if he's taking any time off around the holidays?" she asked. She'd asked him multiple times in multiple different ways. But she'd been getting vague, non-answers.

Jay shrugged. "I don't think Woods is really letting him let his guard down these days," he said. "Chasing after his own tail. Doesn't make a lot of time for time off."

Erin clutched his hand at that but nodded. "What about you?" she asked. "How long are you supposed to be on this walkabout?"

Jay made a noise and pawed at his phone a bit. He stared at the screen. "I don't know. Hailey said she'd text me after things got mopped up from my latest C.I. and U.C. fuck-up. Tell me when things had cooled down."

Erin looked at him. "I think the time off is more personal than professional," she said.

He grunted something and shoved his phone back in his pocket. "It doesn't matter when she gets back to me anyway. I think she's purposely clueing out of the whole Woods-Voight-Ruzek thing."

"She's a good cop, Jay," Erin sighed at him. "She just …"

"I know," he allowed. "She approaches the game differently."

"She wants to be career police, Jay," she contended. "Right now … that's … a hard thing for anyone to realistically pull off."

"Yea, well, I thought I was career police too," he said and handed her an ass-ugly farm playset made of recycled materials with a bear driving a tractor. At least she thought it was a bear. It was hard to tell. It was green. Maybe it was a goblin. Either way, it definitely wasn't worth the forty dollar price tag. She dropped it back into the spot he'd retrieved it from.

He stared at her. She thought he was going to chastise her. Or proclaim that he really wanted to get the mutant farmer in the dell set she'd just rejected.

"Do you think it's actually realistic to do the job and raise a family?" he asked.

She shook her head and shrugged at him. "Lots of families do it."

"Yea," Jay said. "But how damaged to the kids end up? How much do you see them? How much do they end up hating you and despising the job? Or being left to worry about you every day of your entire career?"

Erin sighed. She let out a slow exhale. "I don't know how to answer that. Beyond … I think most cops who are parents … the good ones … they do the best they can to … make it work."

He dropped her hand and wandered over to the Lego section. She went and stood with him. He was staring at a rocket ship. A giant box. The picture on the front seemed to vaguely register as one of the rockets they'd seen down in Florida. But they'd all kind of looked the same to her. Though, she did know it wasn't the Millennium Falcon. She also knew it wasn't an appropriate set for a two and a half year old. But Jay didn't seem to have the slightest interest in nudging down the row to look at the Duplo.

"With all the Woods bullshit going on," Jay said. "With the internal audit. And just the job. I think Voight's maybe home … I don't know. A few hours a night. Maybe dinner. Get Eth to bed. And then …"

"I know," Erin acknowledged quietly. "It's on … the list of things that keep me up at night."

Jay kept staring at the block set. "We had this case," he said mutely. "Back in October."

Erin looked at him – even though he didn't look back. He said next to nothing to her about work since … the spring. And when he did, it was vague references. Or more likely venting about the little quirks and idiosyncrasies of each of the members of the unit. Or an all out rant about trying to get in sync with Upton.

"It involved kids," he muttered. "It was bad. Really bad. We had to go deep into the Dark Web."

She found his hand again. "You hadn't said anything then."

He made a little noise. "You … deal with enough of that stuff now. Daily. I don't know how you're doing that."

"A day at a time …," she said.

He let out a sigh and looked at her. His eyes looked a little distant. "Kid cases …," he said. "I … hate them anyway. And since … Eth. It's been harder. And this … it just … it felt a little too raw."

She squeezed his hand tighter. "You should've said something."

He shrugged. "I came that weekend," he said. "It was just Halloween."

She nodded. "Okay …"

"I talked to Voight about bringing Eth. I thought … maybe he needed some time. Or maybe it was just me being … selfish. Me wanting the time with the kid. Or to have my eyes on him. After that … and knowing … what kind of fucking eyes end up on some of these pictures. Or worse."

He gripped her hand.

"But Voight … Hank … he said no. Said that after those kinds of cases, he just wanted to hold his kids closer. And I get that. I guess it was what I was feeling too. But he's said that to me in different variations before. That … his family, having something to go home to … that's his stability. So the job – it doesn't swallow you."

Erin held his hand. His fingers spread and griped around hers. "I've heard that speech too. Family," she acknowledged. "It's one of his mantras."

Jay nodded and shifted his eyes to her. They looked a little more pleading. "You think it's true? That's now it works?"

She gave a little nod. "I do, Jay," she said. "Even … just Ethan … even with my own fuck-ups and missteps and holes … Ethan's been … a reason to keep stable. To come back to that stability."

"Do you miss the job?" he put to her directly.

She sighed at him and held his hand a little tighter. "I don't know how to answer that either, Jay," she admitted. "There's … things I miss about it. But there's things I don't."

"Who am I without the job?" he asked. "If IA … or Woods … or the Ivory Tower … or this …" he gazed at the rocket ship. "… fucing PTSD bullshit wins."

She squeezed his hand until his eyes founder hers again. "You're still you," she said. "Because you aren't the job."

He made a sound. "I think … before they get here … I need to figure out how to believe that."

"I can believe it for you until you're ready to believe it yourself," she said.

He gave her a thin smile. She wasn't sure he believed her. His eyes just rotated back to the set again.

"Eth has his screening MRI on the twenty-first," Jay muttered. "His monthly plasma thing after. Did Hank tell you that?"

"No …," Erin admitted quietly.

"Yea …," Jay nodded. "I don't think he likes putting it down on the books or Woods would … jerk him … all of us … around more than he already is. But I know he's not coming into District on the twenty-first."

"That's Ethan's pageant too," Erin said.

"Yea …, I don't know if he'll realistically get to that. It's like … they let him believe what he needs to or wants to … to get him through the day. You know?"

"Not really …," Erin said. Because she wasn't there.

Jay frowned at her and looked back to the set. "He hasn't right out said it. But I think he's planning on avoiding the barn as much as possible from the twenty-first through Christmas."

"Okay …," Erin allowed. "That's good to know."

Jay nodded and pointed at the set. "So I think we should get him time for Christmas. Time with Eth. Pretty sure that's all he wants. I guess maybe it's all any father who's an actual father really wants."

And Erin felt her eyes glass a bit and bit her bottom lip to stop it. She nodded. "Okay," she allowed but squeezed his hand again until he pulled his eyes from the set and looked at her. Until he watched her gesture back to the Playskool section – and the toddler version of the Millennium Falcon, Han, R2 and Chewy. "But only if we get two of those. Because our family … Henry, them," she said and tugged his hand to set it against their growing bump. "They already know … Uncle Jay, Daddy … he's not the job. And they want every minute they can get with him … the real him … too – no matter what he's doing for a pay check."

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Didn't write exactly the way I hoped. And more dialogue than usual — I know some of you like that. But meh. Whatever. Posted.**

 **Comments and feedback are appreciated.**

 **The other day I posted two chapters (Unwanted Attention and Keep Going). Looks like a lot of you missed and/or skipped Unwanted Attention. You might want to check it out.**


	20. No Words

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin stood in just outside the doors of the MRI bays – supposedly outside the electromagnetic field. But she also really doubted that the doors and the window she was gazing through in wait was doing much to protect her from any of that. Maybe she should be more concerned – at least for the sake of the pregnancy. But they'd told her she could wait there. Until they were readying the next scan across her baby brother.

She could see Hank off in the official parent holding area. He was standing with his arms crossed staring in at his son's motionless body on the table – his feet sticking out of the machine. Or at least that's what she assumed his view was. So he could ensure nothing uncouth was happening to Ethan. Or maybe more so that parents could ensure their child was co-operating if they hadn't resorted to putting them under for an extended scan.

But Ethan was a pro at this now. Erin knew that. Or she'd convinced herself of that. To try to make it all a little easier. And, really, she did know out of everything Ethan had gone through thus far in his too short life, having to get an MRI a couple times a year really wasn't likely on his list of worries. It was probably one of his least invasive experiences.

Besides, he'd told her that it just sounded like he was 'tripping at a rave' when he was inside that tube. It'd earned a little smile from her. Mostly because she doubted he even had a clue what a rave was. That he'd never gotten to experience them – and as a sister and as a pending mother, maybe she was kind of glad he hadn't. Though, there were other trends and dangers that … '10s? … kids … whatever they were defined as anymore, which seemed as fluid as the dangers that seemed to sweep up and engulf their lives and rob them of their childhoods so quickly… faced. Dealt with every day. Some that had already crept into her baby brother's life and contributed to his innocence loss even more than … life … already had. Maybe a '90s-style rave would be a better option. A more childish and innocent option. And maybe – more than likely – that's how he perceived it too. Something funny … from the olden days.

Though, her teasing contention of his lack of knowledge of what a rave was had only caused him to ferret out ''90s rave music' for her from … she didn't want to know. She feared he might've found it on her old music files on one of the computers … along with Napster. More evidence to try to prove just how out of touch she was and how much the world had changed. That they were a different generation. And if she was a different generation from Ethan – she could only imagine how out of touch her kids would feel she was at some point in the future.

Ethan had cranked up the horrendous techno for her – electronica blasting it in his room until Hank had come upstairs and barked at them. Enough for Ethan to switch it play out of his headphones and top them over her ears and tell her to lay down on his bed and close her eyes. That that was what it was like to be in an MRI machine.

"Trance," he'd told her. "But don't move. So trance zen."

He was such a … weird little kid. But maybe if that's what being stuck in the machine for an hour or more was like … it wasn't that bad. Maybe she had to trust him that it wasn't that bad. Though, she suspected that her little brother was just trying to tell her what he thought she needed to hear to not worry so much.

Because standing in that hospital hallway – staring through at Hank and the set scowl on his face while he stared in at Ethan – had her weighing how worried he was. And she was using that to measure how worried she should be.

Erin could see one of the technician rooms from the window she was looking through. Just see it. And the images coming up on the screen. Barely. And she tried to determine if it was the technicians performing the scan on Ethan or if it was coming in from one of the other machines creating all that clicking and ticking and creaking bass in that corridor in the bowels of Med.

She sort of wished if it was Ethan's that it was Hank who was standing where she was standing. Because she also didn't doubt that he had his son's MRIs – the pictures of his brain and spine and network of peripheral nerves branching off and through his body – memorized. That he'd know the placement of every plaque and lesion in Ethan's body. That Hank would be able to instantly tell – without them having to wait for the next consult and follow-up with the neurologist – if there was anything new showing. If the progression had actually plateau and stabilized. For the moment. Or if this latest scan was just going to tell them that her baby brother was continuing to slowly slide downward into the grips of chronic, progressive … and eventually terminal … disease.

But … even knowing that was what she might be looking at – even though she didn't know what she was looking at – she was just happy she was there. That she was standing there – waiting for permission to go in. To be with her family. To finally be home.

And that made it a good day. An exhausting day. Not just for Ethan. For her. For Jay. For Hank.

Or days. She wasn't sure how long she'd been up or what day she was really on in terms of hours. She did know that she'd slept a bit in the car. And she knew the sun had gone down and come back up. But some how it still all was just kind of blurred together. It was a day.

Her and Jay had maybe left the city too late that day. Or the day – night - before.

Maybe they'd waited a bit too long. But in a way … she'd enjoyed having him … to herself in New York. To not have to share him with anyone else. To not have the job pulling him away – even though he'd watched him fidgeting with his phone and texting Hailey and even making some calls to keep a read on what was going on in the bullpen. To try to understand when Hank would let him back in – professionally and personally. But at least the job – and what you had to do on the job, who you had to be – didn't have him flipping that switch.

Even if Erin could see moments in him where his eyes were vacant and unfocused. Where she knew he was thinking about something – the things from the job she knew about and the things and cases from the past six months that he hadn't told her about either. And the other things that that brought up … about Afghanistan and about what happened to him as a teen and about his relationship with his family … his father and brother and mother. About things he'd done – and said – and hadn't done. And about what was to come.

But at least she had him there. And she was glad to have that.

She wasn't sure they'd done anything with the time. They hadn't. They had and they hadn't. But maybe that was what was nice about it. They'd talked a bit. They'd watched TV a bit. Shows that he wouldn't normally watch but that he'd tolerated there – outside their usual. They'd found a place to eat that they hadn't hated. They ordered take-out that was decent …for New York. And they'd slept.

She could tell he'd actually slept – because as the time he was there extended, he seemed … more himself. More focused and more stable.

Erin had noticed that his other visits too that fall. To the point that she sometimes felt that the only reason he came to visit her was to sleep. And even though that meant less time with him—she was happy to be able to give him a place and space where he felt safe enough to let himself rest. To sleep and process. To try to get himself centered and his head on straight to tackle life and the job and work again. Maybe she needed that too. The quiet, the sleep, the comfort – that only seemed to really come and to feel the way she wanted it to feel when she had him beside her in the bed.

But she also knew the benefit of those couple nights sleep always seemed to be short-lived. At least right now. Maybe for both of them.

But for those three days in New York City … this time … they were both kind of … removed. Where maybe they got to feel like a couple again. Briefly. Or maybe it was more that they got a few days to work at figuring out how to be a couple … now. To gauge what life looked like or could be like … as the people they were having to become. The new roles and paradigms and responsibilities they were having to embrace.

For just a few days they got to enjoy each other. Even if moments of it was hard. And other moments were scary. And some of it still felt unnatural and strained and awkward. But it also just felt … comfortable.

Laying in the bed – not talking … more than once – Jay had uncharacteristically shifted and put his head on her stomach. And he'd just lay there and stared at the little growing bump they'd made. He didn't say anything. He reached out and rested his hand over there a bit. Like maybe he thought he might start to feel them moving or kicking like they'd seen at the ultrasound. Or maybe he just wanted them to know he was there. And even if they couldn't feel the weight and heat of his palm resting there – Erin could.

And she let him lay like that. She let him think and process and try to wrap his head around whatever it was he needed to wrap his head around. Let him try to figure out how to be a part of this and in what way he wanted to be a part of it. And what this was supposed to look like. Because she had them growing inside of her and she still had to stop and think and process and wrap her head around all of it. To try to figure it out.

And she thought that somehow … that processing felt a bit easier feeling the weight and the heat of his head and his hand against her. For her to stare at him – and the hair on the back of his head and to thread her fingers through it in short brushes over and over again – while he stared at her. At them. While they quietly worked at processing all this together. Even in the uncharacteristic, unnatural, strained and awkward moments – that still felt comfortable. Maybe despite them.

Because Jay was her friend. And maybe that was confusing too. Because as much as she started placing other titles on him … fiancée, boyfriend, lover, fuck buddy, baby daddy, the man she'd intentionally and unintentionally just made a family with … she kept coming back to two. He was her friend – her best friend. And he was her partner. Above and beyond all those other titles – friend and partner.

And that was calming. To know that despite all the … everything … things could feel comfortable because of who they were to each other – what they were to each other – before they let themselves be something else.

She'd realized … they had a foundation. Not just history. They'd laid a foundation. Likely without even realizing it at the time. And even though it wasn't perfect – she was seeing and feeling the real importance of that foundation now.

She was … so fucking glad they'd put in that time and the work to have that. Because it was starting to feel like … maybe things could work out. Not as some fairy tale. And she sure as fuck didn't have any sort of vision board about what the hell the house – family home – they put up on that foundation was going to look like. But they'd work out. Because they had built that foundation to build on. They had something to work with.

So maybe she'd … let them stay around New York a bit longer than she should've. To have that time. To be a couple. To try to process.

But she wasn't sure that was entirely true either. Because it wasn't just … him … them … she needed to work on and work with. She had things she needed to finish around the city and the apartment. Shopping and wrapping and just mentally preparing for getting home. To Chicago. To Ethan. To Hank. To conversations that she knew they should have in the coming weeks. Ones she was scared to have and excited to have. Ones that she also didn't know how they'd turn out.

She had to tie up some loose ends at work too. To hand off any files that needed to be monitored and handing in reports and paperwork that Cassidy wanted and needed to get his own job done for the end of the year.

Though, she hadn't felt too bad about booking the days off. Not when it seemed like their office did operate at the speed of government and acted like bureaucrats more than cops. Likely because they had to deal with bureaucrats used to banker's hours more than the rest of the world.

But the thing was … courts operated on holiday and government hours too. They didn't need a whole staff in the office and there were lots of people who'd racked up time-in-lieu and banked their vacation days to enjoy what pretty much amounted to an office shutdown. At least by her standards. By police standards. By Hank's standards – and that's how she'd grown up. That's how she'd been taught. It was what her adult life – her career – had looked like up to that point.

And she wasn't sure if that was right or it was wrong. Because it – he'd – given her a purpose. And that had worked. But maybe that flexibility – the greater semblance of a work-life balance - was something she liked about her new job. Maybe she hadn't liked it in her day-to-day usually. Maybe she went back to her apartment and worked all night anyway. And maybe it was something she would've hated previously. All that time.

Maybe then – for years - she would've been happy to take every hour and day she could take to fill all her time. Because she needed that for so many reasons. To have a purpose. To provide distraction and patch up holes. And to keep her hands and mind busy.

And maybe her and Jay weren't so unalike in that. Even though their issues and their challenges and their baggage was different. They weren't. And maybe they were slowly starting to face that on more and more. To see that they hadn't just built a foundation together. That they'd both had a similar foundation – building materials – that they'd been able to fuse together to establish that foundation they'd grown into now. And maybe that's why … they worked. Even when they didn't.

She thought about those years gone by. When she was happy to work thirty and a day. When she had to be forced to take her furlough. That really the only two days of the year she'd try to get off were Christmas and Ethan's birthday barbecue. And even then as long as she wasn't pulling a double – that she'd be there in the morning or for dinner – she hadn't put up much of a fuss.

But that just wasn't her reality anymore. It wasn't what she wanted that year. At all. And she could tell – knew – that in coming years she'd want more than the holiday off. That she'd want a couple days. Or the week. That she'd likely want other days and weeks and hours – on evenings and nights and weekends – off during the year too.

And that wasn't what the job – the person she'd been and indentified herself as – could've managed previously. It likely wasn't something she wanted previously. That she might scoff at it as lazy or for people in a different demographic than her. Just not part of her reality. But right now – it was and it could be. At least in New York. And she hoped when she came back to Chicago – to Illinois – she'd find something that still gave her some kind of flexibility to have that life in some way. While still … being a cop in other ways or sorts … or something. An investigator? Still.

She thought maybe she could keep doing that. Doing what she was doing. Seeing the value in it. Finding some level of purpose and enjoyment in the work. Something that she was good at. The interviews. The research. The interrogation room. That's what he'd spent her adult life learning – what Hank had really taught her – how to look people in the eyes and how to ask them the questions to get the answers you needed.

Hank had taught her how to take what she had and who she was and what she could offer and to be someone who was doing something for her community … and city and state and country. And just for people who mattered. That people mattered. That she mattered. That Jay mattered. That the family they were making mattered. And the community they'd built around them – they mattered too. They were family too. And you had to work for that. For you community. You had to fight for you. To ensure you were providing some kind of justice in an unjust world. For all the people around you.

But she clearly wasn't entirely used to having that kind of job and shifting priorities yet.

Maybe she still felt a bit of guilt about walking away or calling it a day or night. Or leaving her team – her new team that she was still learning to see that way too and to accept and find her place in – on their own (despite her knowledge that near the whole office was at least taking a day or two here or there over the next two weeks – for their own family time, their own lives … that weren't just the job. Because if you were doing it right – you weren't just the job even when you were. When you surrounded yourself with the right people – the right team – you were so much more than the job. You were family. In so many different forms). Because she'd still put in a whole day. Even though she'd also known that if she'd just told Brian that she was planning on hitting the road that day – that Jay had flown in a few days ago, that she'd changed her plans and was driving now, not flying – that as long as she'd handed him her paperwork and assured him that her phone would be on, he would've told her to take off. She hadn't though. Because that didn't seem like a team effort.

She'd put in the day and hadn't even let Jay pick her up at work. Because navigating at that time of day was just a pain in the ass anyway. So she'd gone home.

Not home. To the apartment – to the place she lay her head at night but didn't sleep much at all. Not until the past few days. Not except on the weekends that Jay visited and managed to find some restless sleep too.

That day, though, they played house. She went home to a dinner Jay had made, as he attempted to clear out her near empty fridge while instructing her that she needed to be eating better during the pregnancy. That if she wasn't – that he was going to look into grocery delivery and food delivery and Meals on Wheels, home-cooked food delivery. Because take-out, bagels, sugary cereal and a near expired carton of milk and bruised apples didn't count as a meal. And it almost made her thankful that they were 800 miles apart. Because it was a little much.

But for all his lectures – that had nearly set a tone and tension for the drive – he'd still managed to put together a dinner for them. He'd still managed to have her apartment cleaner than she'd had in a long time – so she 'didn't have to come back to a disaster after the holidays'. Though, he'd flatly told her – warned her – that she might be walking into a minor disaster when they got to the townhouse. He'd carefully clarified that it wasn't the whole house – but the basement, the rec room or TV room or his Man Cave … whatever they were going to call it in that moment – was … a little ripe. And she'd known what he was really saying was that he wasn't going upstairs. He wasn't using their living room or kitchen. He wasn't going up to their bedroom. He was coming in the door and sitting in front of the TV until he could find a reason to leave the house again. But she'd already known that. She'd watch the mess grow over the fall as he dug deeper into his rabbit hole. And she knew that if that had been the door Hank come in when he dragged him out Christmas shopping – he would've seen it too, if he hadn't already more than suspected it. And it would've only added to why he'd insisted on this forced furlough. It wasn't about Woods or Ruzek or Jay's vague references to his latest U.C. being a rough case. It was about how much his PTSD was showing right now. About the rabbit hole he was in. And what that meant for Jay as a man … as a cop and as a member of that family. It was personal leave.

But Erin still thought that Hank would be happy with some of the results - some of the progress – they'd made during this … walkabout. That maybe Jay was … trying to figure a way out of the briar patch. Maybe he'd had the reason to get out smack him so much more directly in the face. Because he was trying to put on his other mask again. The one where he took the 'good guy' image to the extreme. Where he'd insisted – annoyingly – on trying to act like she was some kind of princess who needed a man-servant to do her bibbing … dragging the suitcases and gifts down to her car. And for as much as he'd protested previously about feeling like a house-husband – he wasn't a bad one. Because he was just … a good guy. Not when he tried to be one – but just because he was.

And it'd made her think of another thing that Hank had tried to teach her – that he lectured her about – that love, marriage, family – it isn't the grand gestures. It's the little things you do for each other. Day-in and day-out. To make life easier. To show you care. To prove you're there. That you have each other's backs.

Be there. Be there for them.

Another mantra that Erin heard ringing in her ears since June and now just seemed to be buzzing louder and louder. Echoing and whishing and galloping like those noises coming out of the speakers during the ultrasound.

Be there for them.

It was already dark when they'd started travelling out of the city – and the snow from the coming storm front was starting to fall. It was big puffy flakes. It'd looked pretty even though it'd slowed their drive down some. It'd slowed it more as they drove into the front rather than a way – and managed to catch up with more seeming blowing off the Great Lakes as they skirted each. And then just because … she was pregnant. And sitting in a car for hours on end wasn't as easy or as comfortable as before. Her bladder wasn't as steel-y. And a girl has got to eat – especially when she's growing human life inside her. So they'd stopped out for more than just to get gas. To check weather and highway conditions on something more than just their apps in moving cars. To see if they could wait out the storm – when it really seemed like they were just waiting for the next one to blow directly into them.

But they'd made it. It'd taken closer to sixteen hours but they'd done it. And it hadn't just been a lot of geography they'd covered. They'd covered a lot of ground too.

They'd talked more stuck in that car together for those hours than they did in their three days trying to pretend they were a young, professional couple in New York. They'd talked and talked. And then they slept or lay their head against the window and listened to music or the news to try to get an update on their drive again. They switched out in the driver's seat a few times. Each taking their turns. Their turn at the wheel and their turn baring their souls. Their turn expressing some anger and frustration and fear. Their turn with the jokes that weren't funny and the sarcasm that maybe was out of place. But sass and ball busting that kept the conversation going even when it was hard. And uncomfortable. But when they didn't have an escape route in place. Unless they were going to bail out into the eastbound lane of the freeway – in the middle of a near blizzard.

Such a fucking metaphor for where they were right now. Stuck in a moving vehicle together with no really feasible escape route. Not now. Bailing now would just make things … so much messier. That the road-burn of that jump was going to hurt and leave so many more scars than just dealing with this. All of this.

Because … maybe she should go with one of Camille's little sayings. The stupidly cheesy one on those so fucking '90's inspirational posters – with a canoe pulled up on the shore with this spectacular sunset – that she had up in her office. The one that proclaimed about life not being some race to a destination – that it was a journey. The poster she claimed was there when she got the space, which maybe was true. But Erin also had noted, even at sixteen, if it was true, Camille still hadn't bothered to take it down. Maybe it was a reminder she needed too at different times in her life. Maybe she even needed to remind herself of that ever fucking day. Because maybe her life and job and family and kids and marriage didn't look the way she'd dreamed either. But she'd still kept them all going every day that Erin had been there. Camille had driven that – at home – more than Hank.

And Erin thought … now … she had an idea of the destination she was headed for. She knew that it was going to include a family in some way shape or form. And she was definitely on a journey to get to that. They both were. And she thought that something more should be added to that little saying … that it was also who you made the journey with.

And she was okay to do that with Jay. She was comfortable enough with even the discomfort of it to keep making the journey. She wasn't bailing.

She thought it was funny. Thinking back on their relationship thus far. So many of their fucking important conversations had happened in a car. Trapped in a car together for hours and hours. Usually parked in one spot. On a stakeout. Undercover. And maybe she'd missed that. She'd missed having … those kind of moments and talks. The bared honesty somewhere in the stale coffee and hidden behind tinted sunglasses and windows in the cold of a Chicago winter and the smell of a CPD unmarked vehicle. But one difference she'd noted was … those talks … they hadn't gotten them anywhere. A lot of the time. They were parked in one place. That night – day – they were moving.

And when he'd dropped her off at Med to go in – to be there with her family – it'd been the first time since June where she felt like they were alright. It hadn't been a fight in the car where he was glad to push her out the door. Where he was glad to be rid of her again. Where she was saturated and upset before going in those doors to deal with this other situation in her life.

They hadn't fought. They'd talked. They'd processed. And they were … in a different place than they were eight hundred miles ago.

And somehow that made walking in those doors and going down to the MRI bays and standing waiting behind that door easier. It made pushing them open and walking over to the parent area easier too. To see Hank look at her with a thin smile.

"You made it," he offered.

She just nodded. Because it wasn't a conversation to be had. Because she had. And it wasn't something more that needed discussion or processing.

Just like after she got to grab Eth's hand as they wheeled him out of the MRI bay and up to the room for his plasma exchange, they didn't need to talk either. Not then. Being there – it was enough.

More than enough, as Hank got into the bed next to Ethan after the nurse had him hooked up to the machine. Not when Ethan immediately rested against his dad and both of them sat there listening as Hank read. And kept on reading after it was clear Ethan had fallen asleep. Until he was done the chapter.

And Hank had lay there for a long time – looking down his chest at where his son was curled against him. Looking at the life he'd created and grown – that was there in a little bump. Those machines around them making a whishing and whooshing and whirling sound amidst the beeps that didn't sound so unlike a few days while Erin stared at another screen looking at a different life.

The only thing that eventually got said was a quiet rasp: "Going to rest my eyes for a bit."

And Hank had looked right at her before closing them and just holding at his son. Able to sleep now. And Erin wondered how long it'd been since he'd found sleep too. How many days or nights or weeks or months.

But he was now.

And she was there. For them. For her family. For all of them. The ones in the room and the ones who weren't.

And she didn't think she needed to say it. Because being there – it was enough of a message. A better one than any words she could come up with anyway.


	21. Elephants in the Room

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Jay wandered over to Voight – to Hank – and stood next to him. The guy was keeping to himself more than even was usual for him. Scanning the room. Or more likely keeping an eagle eye on Eth – not that he really had to. Erin had been keeping within about twelve feet of Eth since they'd come into the post-pageant reception. It was a little too hoity-toity for Jay's liking. But pretty much everything at the school was. And he knew if he felt that way, that Hank likely did too. It was probably on the list of things they could agree on. And it just made it so fucking confusing why he even had his kids in this school in the first place. Or why the hell he kept Eth there now, after everything that school had put him through.

Jay didn't exactly like coming into Ignatius. He likely liked it even less now. Now he was probably doing near the same as Voight – scanning and making sure no one was giving Eth … or Erin … any shit. But it was like they were being treated like some sort of pariahs. He could feel that too. Some of the looks they were getting. Some of the people that he knew Voight might've done some chit-chat or elbow-rubbing or casual grooming for future information while he was there. But that wasn't going on. They were all being given lots of space. And if that's how they – as adults were being treated as adults – Jay didn't want to try to imagine too much what Eth's daily-life looked like at the school anymore. He tried to decide whether it was a curse or blessing that the kids and teachers and administrators, it seemed, just gave him a whole lot of space.

He knew Voight had tried to get Eth into one of the trade schools in the city. But it hadn't been a good fit in a whole lot of ways. That he'd looked into what basically amounted to "special needs" schools during his time off. And that hadn't worked out for a variety of reasons he wasn't entirely privy to. And then there'd been some passing talk about just tossing him to the public system but that had gotten ruled out almost as quickly as Erin had presented it as an option. So instead it was this. Whatever this was.

Being there always made him feel like … he was tumbling way too far back in remembering his own high school experience. The ways he now forced himself not to make comparisons between him and Eth. And the ways he didn't even want to have to broach all that with what he had going on in his own life. He was triggering too much for other reasons without having to acknowledge or cope with that layer of PTSD. Of fucking childhood trauma that he knew … defined him too much as an adult and human and man than he also was ready to admit.

And maybe he'd been reflecting on that a little too much anyway. Because of the fact he'd be a father now. How carrying that baggage might affect how he raised kids – what kind of father he was – even more than being a vet or being a cop. And just his own fears about how blind he might be. As selectively blind as his own father? Or as blind as Erin and him and Voight had been to just how bad things were getting for Eth? And even if it was that – or it wasn't – just how fucking hard it was to protect your kids from bad shit happening to them. Even when they had decent parents and decent family. The world still fucking ate you up and spit you out.

And thinking about all that was a little hard too.

He'd sort of hoped – more than hoped – that this outing to Eth's school's Christmas thing wouldn't happen. That the kid would be too tired or too stoned or just not feeling well enough to handle going to it. But that was him trying to delude himself. Maybe – clearly – he hadn't been spending enough time with Eth to be reminded what a stubborn little fuck he was. That he dug in his heels and got shit done. After he had his mind set to something – it was going to fucking happen.

And for whatever reason – and Jay also didn't want to reflect too much on what the kid's reasoning might've been – this pageant thing was on the list of things that Eth had decided he was going to do. That he was going to show up at.

He'd still been surprised when Erin had showed up at the townhouse around five-thirty and declared that Eth was awake and wanted to go. So – get showered and cleaned up and changed. They were going. It wasn't up for discussion.

The last few days – a lot of it'd been like that. Things that weren't up for discussion. There were the things he had say in and a control in. And then the things she'd been clear about – changes she wanted made, things she wanted to see out of him, and what he had to do to tick off those boxes.

Checklist. A routine to memorize. To commit to. Jobs to get done. Things to work on for himself and for her and around the house. Her perspective on how – at the minimum – they could try to make this work. About what she wanted it to look like at the start. And what had to happen – from her end, from his end, from their end – if it was going to get beyond just being a false start. To make them function as something that was a nitty-gritty family. One that likely wasn't going to be … exactly what maybe he'd deluded himself what a marriage and family and home life and kids would look like.

They were going to be messy. They were likely going to be living hand-to-mouth for … more than a while. He wasn't sure when he'd thought about moving up in the world – the world he was going to be growing a family into was going to be anything that amounted to moving up. At least what he'd previously thought it would be. They were going to be middle class. Not upper middle class. Not even middle middle class. They were going to maybe be lower middle class. Living in a twenty-something-year-old townhouse. In a neighborhood – that Will loved to remind him – just go to pretend that it was part of University Village when it really was more of some sort of weird neutral zone between gentrification and a rough neighborhood. And it was like neither side had really decided which was going to lay claim to it yet. Spill over and take control of it. And right how, if they made this work and they got to raise their family in that townhouse and that neighborhood, Jay wasn't entirely sure which side he wanted to win in the end. There were pluses and minuses to both options.

It'd been hard talks. Hard to have them in the evenings and into the nights and into the wee-hours of the mornings for her to then be the one who got to get up and go to work and have distraction. And he'd been left to think and process and to try to figure this out. To try to find the answer and the solution to all of this. Like there was some kind of answer key somewhere. Some sort of manual to any of this.

There wasn't. None of these fucking What to Except When You're Excepting books were aimed at their situation. None of the Dad-To-Be books seemed to get it. And he didn't want to start Googling or trolling forums and leaving a digital trail of just how fucking lost he was. Or taking the advice of some fucking whining yahoos who were likely just waiting to be house-husbands. Stay at home dads. After having the perfect childhood and a low maintenance job and a wife who apparently was happy (or emasculating) enough to be the one wearing the pants and pulling in all the family's dollar bills.

He didn't fit those categories. And there wasn't some sort of So You Were Sexually Abused By Your Soccer Coach Ran Away To Join The Army Ended Up A Ranger In Afghanistan Saw And Did A Lot Of Fucked Up Shit Only Come Home To Watch Your Mother Die Don't Have A Relationship With Your Own Father Have A Strained Relationship With Your Older Brother Who's A Pro At Letting You Down And Didn't Show Up To The Funeral Because He Was Partying In New York While You Were Losing Your Fucking Mind In Chicago And Only Managed To Pull Out Of It By Becoming An Obsessive Cop Who Has Continued To Kill A Whole Lot Of People And Is No Longer Sure If You're You Or Your U.C. Identity And Just How Long That's Actually Been True Because Maybe It Has Been For A Long Time And That's The Only Reason You Looked Almost Functional Or Maybe It Was How You Worked to Plug Things Up Like with Other Things To Get Obsessed About Like Your Partner and Sort Of Girlfriend And Now Sort of Fiancée Who You Took Quiet Pleasure In The Fact She Was Previously The One More Fucked-Up Then You But Now She's Not And You Managed to Knock Her Up While You're Right Back to Being Alone in Chicago While The Person You Need Is In New York And You're Again Losing You're Fucking Mind But Congrats This Time You're Going to Be a Father So You Better Figure Out How To Plug and Fix Those Cracks Pronto handbook.

Basically he was screwed.

Screwed again in having a fucking sixteen hour drive of … deep, hard, harsh talks. It was a lot of … no holds barred conversation. She'd made some hard jabs. He'd made some of his own. They'd both had some hurt moments and some quiet that went on for miles and miles before either of them had said something else. But it'd been okay. It'd been real.

And real still when he'd dropped her off at Med and he'd gone back to the townhouse to again process. To try to clean up … the mess he'd let fester there in more than one way. In ways that couldn't be resolved with him just picking up the empties out of the TV room. Or opening some windows to air the place out. Or putting some fresh sheets on the bed that he really hadn't slept in since when she'd been home earlier in the month – and they'd been put on clean then too. Or trying to run out and fill the fridge with … something for her and the progeny to eat.

Instead he'd ended up standing on the third floor and staring between the guest bedroom that had come to be the resting place for all his furniture – and the majority of his décor – and the workout room that had pretty much turned into more of a junk room. Maybe more so since Erin had been gone. He'd eventually gone and sat on the foot of the bed – his bed – and taken in the space.

Erin had said she thought it make the most sense to turn it into the nursery. And he'd agreed. It was a bigger space. But some how it felt like a bigger reminder of just … how much … his whole … world, life … was changing. That he was giving up this space. This piece of himself. That he was making space for … something else. Something bigger. But it … needed change. To pack up parts of himself and to unpack other parts of himself. To figure out how to move everything around and make it work. What needed to be gotten rid of – given up – to make it work.

That room of motorcycles and browns and horseshoes and framed photography - that he was pretty sure proved that it'd be him who'd do the picture-taking in their growing family that warranted being printed out and hung on walls, not Erin … and maybe … he was just as good as Olive … even if he'd held a camera in a different time and a different way and had learned to do it by looking different sorts of lens and scopes and having to see and be aware of the terrain in a very different way then you did taking shots of your kids or dogs or engaged couples in your building. And it wasn't going to be that way. Not for much longer. And he sat their trying to imagine that. To picture it. To just fucking wrap his head around it.

Erin had laughed at him – scoffed – when he'd asked in the car what color he should paint the walls. She'd said she didn't care. She'd tried to act like she didn't. But then she'd interjected.

"Something neutral," she'd said. "Grey."

"Grey?" he'd raised his eyebrow at her. Like enough of their lives didn't exist in some sort of grey area. And now she wanted to literally drop the new life they were adding to their … family … into a grey area.

"I don't know," she muttered at him. "Yellow."

And he'd raised his eyebrow at her more. "You mean like Hank's kitchen. The one you regularly have a commentary about."

She'd made this little frustrated sound at him. And said even more under her breath. "Camille liked yellow," before she'd added more firmly. "Green then. Just neutral, Jay. We don't need to paint it right now anyway."

But for some reason sitting there in the room – green, grey, yellow – it made sense. It all seemed to … feel like maybe he could see it. And maybe it'd mix and mingle together and it'd be okay. It'd look okay.

And – grey – all he could think of was elephants. Their grey area family. And the elephants in the room.

And maybe that's just … fucking who they were. What they were. And maybe it made sense. And was workable.

And he was still sitting there – questioning his sanity about these fucking yellow and green and grey elephants he was conquering up in his head – when Erin had come upstairs. He'd been so fucking … lost … in his mind space that he hadn't heard her come. He hadn't heard her up the stairs. And he didn't know how many times she'd called out at him.

What he did know was that he'd startled when she'd touched his shoulder. And he must've had a vacant look in his eyes. Maybe … maybe he knew … that he did. That he'd been off on a different plane. Less of a flashback than a flash forward. And maybe for the first time that flash forward hadn't been quite as scary. But he'd still been sitting their absorbed unsure how to get out of it. And he'd let it take over his consciousness. His psyche and being. And he knew she could see that.

She'd sat next to him and stared at the room too. Her had hand come down and gripped at his hand until they twined fingers.

"You alright?" she'd asked.

It wasn't judgemental. Maybe that was the whole thing about the past few days too. She'd been in his face about … what needed to happen. But she hadn't been judgemental. She'd been supportive. She'd let him talk when he wanted to or needed to. And even though she brought up a whole lot of subjects and topics and contexts he didn't want to get into – she'd listened when he'd told her he didn't want to talk about it. She'd just been there. She made … repeatedly clear … without saying it directly … that she wasn't giving up on him. She'd … so openly and bluntly acknowledged some of her mistakes. She'd … taken … this … honest responsibility for them. And she … she was making clear she wasn't going to make them again. That she was working on them and herself. And toward the things she wanted. And she wanted him to do the same. Whatever that was. But she wasn't giving up on him. When he felt like maybe he was in a spot that he deserved to have people walk away or turn away a bit. That maybe that's what he was used to. And maybe she'd done that to him in the past. But she wasn't right now. She was there for him … in a way he wasn't entirely sure how to handle either. Especially when it felt like he should be the one raising up and supporting the shit out of her and the family they'd made for themselves. But it was her who was … she was sorting it out and figuring it out and supporting them all.

She was … too fucking strong. And it was like … she hadn't known that before. Or she didn't believe it. But … she'd figured it out. She'd risen up to it. She was rising to the occasion. And he was struggling to catch up.

But he wanted that strength too. But he didn't envy it or covet it. He didn't want to rob hers. He wanted her – needed her – to be as strong as possible. It was … one of the things he loved about her. This was all just … like this slow peeling away all the layers of what they were and weren't and all the pain and shit and joy and sadness and guilt and … just everything they'd been through. As friends and cops and partners and … a couple. In all those different relationships and the layers and context they came with and the rules and boundaries. And even though some of those layers was like ripping off a band-aid of a seeping wound – the sting … it still kept on giving way to this reminder of the why. Why he was in this. Just … all the different layers he loved about her. Even the fucking bad ones. The hurtful ones. Because they were a part of the whole. This fucking core of her that was just … tough.

Tough. Strong. Stubborn.

Family traits. Ones that he hoped would be passed along.

Maybe along with the other layers that her family didn't want to show as much. The passion and compassion and empathy and kindness and tenderness and patience. Because as they worked at peeling back the layers of their nearly five years of relationship stages and the layers of the people they were in their 30-something years of existence – he kept coming across those layers too. The ones that were hidden in the mess of all the other ones. The ones that made it … so fucking worth it. Even when it really … fucking hurt. If he could just get the … other parts of his mind and body … to fucking catch up with that train of thought. To co-operate with it in the way he knew he wanted to but was struggling to get it to align the way he wanted it to just yet. Because he couldn't get all the switches to flip and the circuits to send the signal in the right way. In the way he needed it to be going. And he was finding that just as frustrating. Because he hated … feeling the way he was feeling so often. That wasn't him. It wasn't the person he'd created or become. It wasn't the person he liked. And if he didn't like that person – then how could she. How could they when they got here.

"Yea … I'm just …," he gestured absently at the room.

She'd only allowed him a little nod and squeezed his hand again. And then she'd sat with him just looking too for a long time.

"Think we should do something super cheesy?" she'd finally teased. "Like … woodland animals."

"Sure," he allowed, holding her hand, trying to keep the grounding she was offering. "Make a Pottery Barn trip while you're home."

She smiled and she placed it against his shoulder, scanning the room. "We'd have to go to the North Side for that. Wicker Park?"

"Right," Jay nodded. "Fuck that. We aren't North Side people."

She'd shaken her head against his shoulder. "No, we aren't."

"Not going to raise some North Side kids …"

"No, we aren't," she agreed again. "We're better than that."

He'd allowed a small sound but looked down to her and smiled a little. Because she was smiling back at him. These thin, quiet, restrained smiles she kept giving him. The ones that hurt a bit to see but the ones that made earning the big, real ones that much better. The ones he kept working at getting and he did – intermittently, even now with how fucked up and diminished he was himself.

"I was thinking maybe elephants …," he said.

"Mmm …," Erin allowed. "Because they're being born into a circus?"

He cast her a little smile at that. "I was more thinking about the elephant in the room."

And she kept his eyes for a long fucking beat after that. And she just kept holding at his hand. And his hers.

"You know, Jay … I've been told the thing with elephants – especially when they're in the room – you don't just try to swallow it all whole. You're going to choke. You just … keep working at it, a bite at a time."

He allowed an amused noise and gazed down. At his feet. At the area rug … that would need replacing too. To be … some sort of play mat. Something that could stay in that room. That belonged there. Something that would grow with them. Grow up with them. Stay with them. Like he would … if Erin let him. If he didn't manage to fuck this up. The way his dad had. Or the way too many cops he knew did. Or maybe too many people in the service did too … while they were in and over there and when they got back. But … that was them. And he was him …

He had to be him. Figure out how to be him. To get comfortable in his own skin again. In the roles and titles and responsibilities he had. And the ones that he knew – deep down – he deserved. And needed. That he wanted.

"I was thinking more …," he struggled for a moment. "… if maybe … they … and the elephants … I got to put them … have them … in the same room. That they'd … they're going to be a reminder that I need to keep on working on that elephant. Why I'm working on … getting that elephant out of the room. And maybe … by the time they're ready to tell us that they want to be rid of the fucking elephant … that they want dinosaurs or the Blackhawks … or woodland animals wearing pink dresses living in princess castles … that I'll be ready to just completely push the elephant out too. That I'll have … gotten down to that final bite. Finally."

She'd only squeezed his hand harder. She'd anchored him more. In that room that hadn't been decorated yet. But already held on display too many of his elephants. Ones that he could start taking down – one bite at a time.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Was getting long. So splitting it. Second half will likely be posted later tonight or tomorrow. Please check back as there will likely be a less than 24-hour gap — so no bump.**

 **After the second half is posted, there will likely be a lighter Erin/Ethan chapter. And then the chapter everyone has been waiting for. I haven't decided if it's going to be from Erin, Hank or Jay POV yet. I had intended on doing Erin but have been playing a bit with Hank or Jay POV and thought process.**

 **Your readership, reviews, feedback and comments are appreciated.**


	22. The Deal

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 ******** PLEASE NOTE: This chapter was a continuation of the chapter immediately for this (Elephants in the Room). It was posted several hours ago and in the same 24 hour period. So please check to make sure you didn't miss it. ******

Even though Erin had made getting ready for going out to Eth's thing … fun … Jay still would've likely opted on the side of not going. To just have … a night … home … together. Before all the … duties, responsibilities and obligations that came with the holidays over the next few days. With Eth. And with his own baggage and memories and anniversaries. And his fucking dynamic with Will and his stupid questions about if he should be offended that Natalie hadn't invited him over for Christmas and if he should get something for Owen.

Put that shit on the list of things Jay really wasn't worried about and didn't have any time to waste thinking about. He just didn't have the brain space or the emotionally capacity to even care right now. It just seemed so … fucking trivial. But it wasn't to Will. Not in his universe right now.

Sometimes Jay wished he could occupy that universe just some.

But then he wouldn't likely have Erin. Because she definitely wasn't caught up in the orbit that Will seemed to prefer most people operated in. And that was going to make talking to him about … all of this and any of this … hard. Hard especially when he had his opinions about Erin. And their relationship. Harder still because Erin had decided they were going to reserve judgement or commentary on Will and his relationships – with his rebound fling with Upton right back into his on-again-off-again pursuit of single-mom Natalie. Apparently Erin wasn't down in casting stones given the glass house they'd set up residence in. And Jay would appreciate that. But … sometimes it made venting harder too.

But it likely just felt overly frustrated right now. Annoyed at how … fucking easy Will seemed to make everything look. But when you were the center of your own universe maybe it was. The rest of them were just space debris in his orbit.

When right now – with the PTSD and the job and Erin and the pregnancy and Christmas and coming up on Mom's death – he could really use an older brother. One that wasn't going to be critical of his life or Erin or choices they were making or the life they were trying to live. One who could just talk to him and support him and give advice that didn't consist of "she doesn't want saving". Though … maybe that was true. Maybe that was pretty much the summary of Erin. And the summary of the way he'd approached relationships – of any kind – and why he failed at human relationships so badly. Why he'd fucked things up so badly when Erin hadn't wanted or needed saving anymore.

So maybe that's … why he didn't want to talk to Will or be around him right now too. He made the answers to easy and obvious too.

Like Voight. He tried to make things so … clear cut. Even with living in the grey.

But Erin's family – they were part of the deal. And maybe he had a lot to learn from them. A lot to still figure out. And traits he could pick up on too. How to be the things in Erin and Eth – and even Hank – that he liked … and respected … and even loved in some cases. And how to make it all look easy too.

And even if the pageant thing only sounded so appealing … it did mean that he got to spend a night with Erin in skirt, which really only happened so often. It'd really only happened a handful of times in the entirety of their relationship. And, as much as when he thought about her in his mind's eye, she was always in jeans, it didn't mean he minded seeing her in one of her new outfits at all. Because that only happened few and far between too.

Maybe that was true for both of them, though. Because, he'd definitely gotten some eyebrow action when he'd finished getting on his good suit. The kind of eyebrow action that he was pretty sure meant after they did manage to ditch this thing, if: A) She didn't insist on going back to Voight's … to potentially have a conversation with the man that Jay wasn't entirely sure he was ready to have yet but Erin was leaning toward it being a band-aid she also wanted to rip off and get on with it, another elephant to push out of the room; B) She wasn't exhausted or felt like her body was 'being hijacked', then maybe they'd keep working on this whole … sex and pregnancy thing. Which was this whole other level of … weird and confusing and just so fucking different in intense ways … if you started thinking about it too much.

And Jay was definitely thinking about everything … way too much. Especially since Erin's place in New York had been a no alcohol and no caffeine zone. Now. It'd made the whole thinking and processing and feeling thing a little more real than it had been in a few weeks … when she'd been home and he'd put on a brave face. And this time … between New York and the holidays … he was going to have somewhere between thirteen and seventeen days straight with her, depending on what she decided abut work and life and how Eth was doing. That was going to be a lot of time to … sober up … about a whole lot of things. And game face and U.C. stories and identities weren't going to work on her. Not well. Not now. For either of them. For their process or their future. And it was also going to make when she had to head back that much fucking harder.

But right now – to the casual onlooker at this fucking thing – Jay was pretty sure they both looked normal … put-together. Mature. All rich people, hoity-toity Christmas pageant function-y.

Though, he'd venture that Eth probably shouldn't have come to the thing. He thought it was a little … absurd … that Voight had agreed to letting the kid go do this thing after his imaging and plasma exchange.

But Jay also got the sense that Eth had wanted to do it not to fucking feel the Christmas spirit – but because he was proving something to himself or them or his dad … or just that whole fucking school. And Jay could tell that Voight – Hank – was proud of that. That Erin was too. He was too.

Eth had powered through. He'd visibly vomited in the sides while getting off stage from the junior band. But Voight had gone and talked to him and given him some of his anti-nausea meds and the kid stuck it out.

And he'd done good. Though, Eth had pretty much looked like he was seeing bells and not just hearing them when he'd played Carol of the Bells on the giant xylophone with the freshman percussion assembly. She actually wasn't too sure if he'd missed most of his part or if his conductor and instructor assigned him a role and instrument that pretty much just required him to stand there and hit the thing a couple times. But Jay was kind of favoring he was too stoned to keep up with the music. Or to remember what he was even supposed to be doing up there.

Or he'd thought. Until the piece had moved into a harmonized mix with Good King Wenceslas and the kid had a fucking solo. Not just did he have a fucking solo – he killed the fucking solo. With Hank leaning over to him and Erin – more Erin – and bringing them into the loop that Eth had been working on that for months in the morning hours he spent at Ignatius. And the kid had just been … rocking out up there with his fucking glockenspiel. Had the rhythm and you'd think he was at a rock concert, he was jiving so in time, just feeling the music. Like he wasn't feeling any of the pain in those three minutes he was standing up there. Like he was just oblivious to however his body or mind was feeling in those moments – or whatever the doctors at Med had put him through that day.

"Really into music right now," Hank had gravelled at Erin. "Here, home." He'd been loud enough that he'd gotten a dirty look from the people sitting in front of him – and Voight had just given a dirtier.

Kid had even gone for the cheese – held up his hands, the mallets, in complete victory when they reached the end of the song. A total mic drop. And Eth deserved it. He deserved the fucking applause he'd gotten too. Not for the solo or the intensity he'd gone after it – for everything he'd soldiered through that year. In life. He deserved some recognition – that wasn't about … all the other things the people at that school seemed to like to make it about.

Same with the actual pageant. You could tell looking at it that they'd cast the younger kids for roles of angels and shepherds and sheep … But, for whatever reason, maybe because Eth wasn't there for rehearsals, they'd given him a Bible verse to read for the rest of his grade level to enact. It was like they'd been setting him up for a moment of failure. Lights. Reading. Standing. But the kid had done it. Confidently. So confidently hadn't even looked down.

"Memorized," Hank had leaned across him again to tell Erin. "Thought he might be too doped up …"

But hadn't been. Just like he'd made it through the seemingly never-ending choral presentations where they'd dragged the entire student body up on stage to sing and harmonize. And Eth had stood up there with them – in what Jay knew would likely be too long for him on a day he'd already be beat and a night where he'd watched the kid put more and more weight on his crutches under the hot, blinding lights. But the kid did it. Fucking powered through. Powered through and then found them still waiting in the auditorium after the concert to tell them that he wanted to go to the general reception. That he wanted to see if they had any treats or cider or hot chocolate he could have. If his fucking school had acknowledged his presence and all the effort he'd put in to be there and to participate – if they had something put out for him. To make him feel like as much as part of the community as these kinds of feel-good events were supposed to make you feel.

And Jay had known they wouldn't. Jay was sure Hank had known too. But he'd agreed to that too. To this fucking silent message while they stood in the corner – that maybe this so-called good-upstanding-Catholic community may want to do their best to forget they were there, to quietly shun them or to make them feel unwelcome and uncomfortable … but they weren't budging.

That they stood as a family. It was a weird feeling too. But it was undisputable, omnipresent back-up. No matter the flak that was being thrown their way.

Hank glanced at his watch as Jay stood next to him. "Give it 'bout ten more minutes," he grunted.

Jay allowed a little nod. "Okay," he acknowledged.

That seemed reasonable. He was ready to call it a night. He hoped Erin was too. But he was getting the definite vibe that she was going to want to head back to Hank's place. He could tell that being at Ignatius wasn't exactly a stellar experience for her too. Add in she'd seemed to have spotted a few people she recognized that she'd seem prefer to try to avoid – which was likely part of the reasons she was roving in near proximity to Eth. Keep moving so no one would corner her. But it also meant she was likely projecting some of her bad memories and feelings about her high school experience on Eth. Because she did that. Maybe he did too.

"Hey … you think about that smart TV thing anymore?" Jay put to Voight. The guy just grunted at him. A non-answer – or maybe a clear answer. A no. "Yea, well, it looks like a lot of the stores are having their last minute sales. I thought, maybe you, me and Eth could make an afternoon of it or something. On the weekend. Check out a couple places. See what you think works."

That just got a look and a smack.

"Better than letting Erin pick," he tried. "Flatscreen knowledge and know-how – not her strong point. It will be all about price point."

The look stayed and Voight moved a bit. "You keeping an eye on them?" he asked.

Jay glanced back to where Erin and Eth were at. She was standing just off to the side – back against the wall, trying to keep in the shadows – while Eth tried to talk to a group of other kids. It didn't look like it was going that successfully for either of them. Though, it did look like Eva was trying – as usual unsuccessfully – to try to draw Eth into a group in a meaningful way but the little circle of chatter kept closing up and pushing him out, leaving him on the outskirts. Erin, though, didn't seem to be looking at that – or them. Her eyes had caught sight of something – or someone – and she seemed to be gauging more how to escape that. She looked a bit like a caged animal – like she regretted having put her back against that wall.

Voight's grunt pulled his eyes back to him, though, instead of trying to spot who or what she was looking at.

"Going to grab a smoke," he rasped at him, "before rallying the troops."

He was already brushing by him but Jay nudged just an inch into his space to stop his regret. It'd got a worse look and a bigger smack.

"You know she's going to smell that on you," Jay put to him.

"Mmm …" It was just another fucking grunt.

"So maybe you don't want to add to the things she's worrying about," Jay pressed. "At least when she's around and it's right there in her face."

Hank stepped slightly into his space then. "Maybe you ought to be worrying about what kind of worries you've got keeping her up at night," he said, "and a little less about mine."

And he backed down, he stepped away to again go out his back door and suck on his cigarette, just like he was doing at work. Like somehow Eth wasn't smelling it on him at home. Or the kid was that dumb, dense and clueless. Like Erin hadn't smelled it on her visits home and asked about it. Like she hadn't told him about the promises Hank had made to his wife when they were pregnant with Eth. Or the promises that Erin and Hank had made to each other. Or just the fucking complete disregard that this family didn't need to deal with some other fucking medical issues, tragedy or death. They didn't need to end up putting another person in a pine box in the ground. And Hank smoking wasn't making keeping up even the delusion of any of those realities at bay any easier. And it was making it fucking worse when Erin was … going to lengths to make sure Hank was officially enshrined as the grandfather of her children. Legally. And maybe it was making it fucking worse for Jay too because if they were going to officially and legally accept and sign-off on the guy as Erin's dad and a grandfather for their family too in too many short months – when Jay had seen what kind of dad and grandfather he was – maybe he wanted him to be around for as many of those years as possible. Maybe dealing with shootings and deaths on the job was enough. He didn't want the possibility of having to deal with cancer again in his family – in the life of his family he'd be raising – to crop up as a reality more than health science already made it. He needed to stop it with the fucking cigarettes.

"So what?" Jay pressed at him. "You've got me benched at work and now you've got me benched from expressing any kind of opinion in the family too?"

Hank smacked at him. But looked at him that time. Really looked at him. "Think your furlough's got you straight enough to have figured out how to balance the personal and professional again?"

And Jay felt himself back down a bit. To sag.

Hank looked at him. "If Erin has an issue with me – or the television situation in my home – she can bring it up with me. Directly."

Jay let out a slow breath and scanned the reception again. A woman was over talking to Erin – likely about her age. And tension was just seeping off Erin.

"Okay, look Hank," he shifted his eyes back to him, "as your would-be son-in-law: it's not the TV situation that anyone has an issue with. It's the sleeping situation. As your subordinate, Sarge, if I'm going to speak freely," but he didn't wait for permission, "I think I speak for the entire unit when I say, we know you're dealing with a lot of shit personally and professionally, but for us to more easily help you do your job and for us to do ours, it'd be a whole lot easier and more enjoyable for everyone, if you occasionally were getting some shut-eye in an actual fucking bed. And, as a friend, your reasoning about keeping TVs out of the master bedroom – I don't think you've got to worry about Ethan deciding that Patrick Swayze looks any more appealing than you. And as someone who's somewhat invested in the well-being of this family and the people in it – the smoking, given everything fucking else that's on the table – is fucking stupid. You want to talk about my crutches or problems-"

"Okay," Hank smacked at him, completely cutting him off. "Here's your latest problem. I've got your partner telling me that she's more than a little worried about you – and if you aren't ready and willing to seriously clean-up your act, she wants a new partner. And if I'm not willing to accommodate that, then she wants a transfer out of the unit. And, you know what, Jay, normally if someone pulled that shit with me, I'd be shipping them to the first opening that I saw. Tout suite. But, Upton, she's the kind of cop we need in Intelligence right now. And, I like you enough to stand here and listen to your little speech and to maybe agree with you on some it – just like I sat there in my office and agreed with Hailey on some of it."

Jay stared at him. "What's that mean?"

Hank stared at him. Long and hard. And Jay knew already he didn't like what was coming. Not at all. But he was forced to stand there steady and wait for it.

"That you're on desk duty until farther notice—"

Jay sputtered abruptly and forcibly, though he quickly measured his tone to try to make it sound sincere – as sincere as he meant it to be and wanted it to be. "Look, Sarge, I apologize. About what happened on my last U.C. How it all went down. How I've been lately. This fall. I know I've put the team in some bad situations. Some really bad situation. But it's not going to happen again. You have my word."

Hank grunted and kept his eyes. "You've got an appointment – tomorrow – with the psychologist. At one."

Jay diverted his eyes at that. And he expected Hank to brush by him then – to go do what he wanted, his way. But he stood there. Stood by him.

"Jay …," Hank gravelled. And it hung there. "I told you … I've told you … over and over again. I like you as a cop. I like you as a person. A man. If I didn't like you that way – respect you that way - you think I'd be letting you near my daughter or my son? My grandchild?"

Jay sagged more. And he … he fucking hoped that Erin wouldn't decide that she did want to go for it that night … because now …?

"You think I'd keep reaching down in that hole you've dug and trying to help you find a way out?"

Jay just shook his head and shrugged.

"You know the fucking answer to that," Hank said and Jay looked at him. He looked at him and he tried to not show any emotions when he knew he wasn't hiding them well.

Hank sighed and looked out into the room too. "You know how many times I've told you these past few months, you want to come over and watch the Cubbies or the Hawks or tinker on the bike with me and E? And you know how many times you've shown?" Hank held up a big zero at him made of his thumb and forefinger. "So where are we, Jay? As friends or family or C.O.-subordinate? Because, I thought balancing the personal versus professional with Erin was a fucking pain in the ass. But you – you've turned it into a fucking art form."

Jay looked at the ground. At the uncomfortable shoes he'd put on for this thing. That looked way to polished for how he felt in that moment. Like maybe he was trying a little too hard. Putting on another outfit to hide who he really was – and it'd made him confident to toe a line that he wasn't in a position to toe anymore – because he'd let Voight … Hank … in on his costumes too much too. Or he'd let himself come so far undone that he wasn't hiding much from anyone.

"You ready to start working on being family again?" Hank put to him directly. "At home? And-or on the team?"

"Yes …," Jay managed.

Because it was about as simple as he could keep it. Because he didn't know what more to say. To explain what sort of progress he'd made in the past few days. What sort of progress he'd made with Erin the past few days. What sort of commitments he'd made to her and himself and their family to try to … become a better man in the coming months. And because he knew Hank didn't want to hear any of that anyway. Because to Hank words – unless they were in some sort of piece of literature – didn't mean too much. He worked on action and example. Jay would need to prove all that to him … in other ways. And that wasn't going to happen that night. If him and Erin told him the news that night – officially - Jay wasn't sure Hank would want to hear it. Or respect him as a person or man or someone he wanted near his family. Let alone a part of it. Adding to it.

"Know," Hank said, gripping his pack of smokes in his hand and tapping a cigarette against the top, "I had a good day today. Funny, right?"

Jay gave him a glance.

"Yea, it's funny. Spent the day in the hospital. But I got to spend it with two of my kids. Got to read to them both. Got to rest my eyes for a bit. Come here and see my boy just keep moving forward. And hopefully in about ten minutes, I'll be heading home to catch the end of the Blackhawks game. And, I got to do it without bullshit. Without my phone blowing up all fucking day. Without people waltzing in and out of my office wanting me to manage their plays for them or get into their game. And for me – that's a good day."

"Yea …," Jay acknowledged quietly.

"So let's not screw that up," Hank smacked. "You got a few days off. You got to spend them with your girl – my daughter. You've had some time to get your head back on straight. Now you've got to get through the rest of the rough patch in a fucking rough time of year. So, don't turn this into a fucking thing. Not at home. Not at work. Go to the shrink. Take it seriously. And your partners – on both fronts," he said jutting the cigarette over Erin's way, "will thank you. Eventually."

"Yea …," he mouthed at barely a whisper.

Hank gave him a small punch at the bicep and Jay jerked away a bit. He still hated being touched by him. Or anyone. Really. Except Erin. Except maybe Ethan. Maybe occasionally Will.

But the guy flashed the cigarette at him. "I like you. So it going to be an issue between us," he said and nodded in Erin's direction, "or you two. Then," he shrugged, "last one."

"Right …," Jay mumbled. "One time thing …"

Hank gave a sort of amused, disgruntled grunt but waved the cigarette Erin's way again. "Okay. I'm done." Jay looked at him and measured if he meant the smokes or if he meant talking. And he wasn't sure. "Going to get some fresh air."

And Jay again tried to read that line. "Looks like she could use some saving."

And he tried to read that one too – as he watched Hank move toward the fire exit. But the box and the cigarette went back into his pocket – no longer on the ready. Though, not making it into any of the trash bins either.

Like maybe he had to keep up his end of the deal before Voight kept up his. And Jay wasn't entirely sure if he knew how to do that – prove it – just yet.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **This chapter was a continuation of the chapter immediately for this (Elephants in the Room). It was posted several hours ago and in the same 24 hour period. So please check to make sure you didn't miss it.**

 **To clarify, the next scene will be an Erin POV. And it will be Erin/Ethan. And it will be a lighter chapter. But it is NOT the scene where Erin will tell Ethan about the pregnancy.**

 **The chapter following the Erin/Ethan scene will be Erin/Hank/Jay and it is currently planned to include the pregnancy announcement. I'm undecided on what character's POV it will be.**

 **Thanks for your readership, reviews, comments and feedback.**


	23. Mean Girl

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 ******** PLEASE NOTE: Two chapters were posted yesterday (Chapter 21 and 21 — The Thing About Elephants and the Deal). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them. They are from Jay's POV. One is a Jay/Erin scene and the other is a Jay/Hank. *********

Erin smiled gently at Ethan. He was so exhaustedly stoned; she could tell. Laying on his side and staring at her just as much as she was staring at him. Only he kept on touching at her face – holding her cheeks in his hands like he wasn't quite sure she was actually there – and mumbling about being so happy she was home.

The feeling was mutual. She was ridiculously happy to be home. To be back in Chicago. To be with Jay. And her family. And her baby brother. And her little nephew. For Christmas. To be there right then – awkwardly laying on Hank's side of the bed in the master bedroom, gazing at Ethan in his mom's spot – looking so much like her and maybe nearly projecting her a little bit.

"You're acting goofy," she finally told him, reaching to swipe at some of the matted tuff of hair that was clinging to his forehead, like it didn't want to let go.

He had been acting a little goofy all evening. But, she knew he was stoned from the medication they had to give him to keep him having an allergic reaction to the synthetic liquid they pumped back into his body during the plasma cleansing. It made him dopey and spacey and usually just knocked him out for hours at a time. That'd pretty much been what the afternoon had looked like. But he did manage to pull himself together act like he was awake enough and well enough to go to his school's Christmas pageant.

And he'd done so well at that. She could tell how proud of him Hank was. Of him showing up. This ongoing 'they don't get to win' attitude that Ethan had taken both against his classmates and his disease as he just kept trudging forward. And just proud of the achievements Ethan had made up on that stage. He'd shined – even though he'd awkwardly, exhaustedly, dopely fumbled through some of it. But he'd done it. And he'd done it his way.

And Erin knew – she understood – that that was an achievement for Hank too. Ethan being there and up on that stage and reading out a Bible verse and playing in the junior percussion assembly and getting a solo and even just being up there and participating with the rest of that school was an achievement. And it was a reflection of all the time and effort and arguments and arm twisting and bribing and advocating that Hank had done above and below line over the past six months. Lots – nearly all – of which she hadn't been there for. That she hadn't participated in or contributed to. Not in a meaningful way.

But Hank – despite everything that was going on at work, despite the emotional burdens their family was dealing with, and the uncertain future they had – he'd risen to occasion. She knew he could or he would. That it was what he was about when it came to family. But he really had. He'd been a single father – alone. He'd figured out tough love and the soft touch that Ethan needed. And he'd somehow managled and mangled and juggled his scheduled between work and home to make to achieve it.

He had a lot to be proud of. Not just of Ethan. Of himself. It was his moment too. Though, Erin knew Hank wouldn't ever see it or acknowledge it that way. It wouldn't have been why he wanted to go or supported and encouraged and didn't argue with Ethan's assertation that he was well enough to go that night.

That long, long night. Because these things did drag on forever. And the hall was so fucking hot even in the specactor seats. She could vaguely recall the oppressive heat and blindness under the lights on the stage when she hadn't managed to wrangle her way out of – or outright skip – school commitments that necessitated her being up there on display. The ones that – now looking back on, that night – she was realizing that she should've appreciated that her showing up and participating wasn't just something that Hank and Camille were trying to force her to do. That her being there would've been another quiet moment of pride and achievement for them too. Of all the time and effort and energy they put into raising her right and getting her an education and giving her a safe and supportive environment to grow and thrive – at least at home, if not entirely at school. And maybe she should've tried a little harder and not been such a teen-aged drama queen about it all.

But she was also learning – that no matter the experiences you have growing up and how much they make you grow up and mature beyond your years – there were some situations where the fact you were still a kid and still a teenager and those parts of you shone through. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing either. Even if they weren't your most redeeming traits showing in those moments – maybe it was at least still some kind of reminder to those around you that you really were still a child and you deserved to have something that resembled a childhood.

And maybe just that eventually, you'd be in a situation, where you were sitting in your high school auditorium and realizing what a pain in the ass you'd been and all the ingrate mistakes you'd made. But that took time and experience to get to that point too. And maybe the level of security and trust and support that … maybe she hadn't had for the first thirteen years of her life. But she'd had for more than half her life now.

And she'd turned out okay.

There'd been that bit of quiet realization too. Sitting there in the school and on the campus that she still so hated having to enter or visit. Or revisit the memories from. And the parts of herself it made her explore a bit more now in a different context.

But despite it all – she'd turned out okay. She was okay.

She'd had another moment of that that night. Maybe in a way she hadn't wanted or excepted.

Erin had spotted Steph – Stephanie … Lancaster, now – in the little … only not so little because Iggy's never seemed to do anything on a small scale … reception after the concert. She'd been doing her best to avoid contact. To just avoid Steph even noticing her. But enviably that'd failed.

Erin could feel Steph giving her the once-over from across the room – before she decided to beeline over to her. As much as a woman who looked like she was about to pop she was so pregnant could beeline. But Steph somehow seemed to manage to make that look easy – in heels and black formal wear that still somehow looked flatteringly fitted and fantastic showing off all the curves on the woman who had to be just weeks, if not days away from going into labor. Her outfit had suddenly made Erin feel underdressed. That the deep crimson blouse she'd picked – because she thought it was holiday colors while still being something she could see herself wearing again and using at work – really just made her look like Miss Scarlett, the harlot that everyone was talking about and whispering about being there under their breath.

And that made her feel that wash of self-consciousness again from back in high school that … again … she was in an environment that she didn't fit in. That she was still a visible mark. That despite taking the time to drag Jay to stores he didn't want to go in and wait for her to try on skirts and blouses that would be a little more flashy for an Ignatius event and a little more Christmas-y and a little better as masking the little bump she'd grown (that Steph's full-on baby belly was completely putting to shame too) until she was ready to disclose to Hank and Ethan that she was pregnant. And maybe to sort of have a few blouses and work clothes that could cover it up too at least for another month or so.

That … she'd felt … attractive and dressed up when she was trying on some of the options and deciding what to buy. That she'd again felt that way – and wanted – as she got to get dressed that evening in her own bedroom and her own walk-in closet and her own en suite bathroom and with Jay casting glances her way from his own dressing routine. With him helping her put on the necklace when she struggled with the fidgety clasp. With how he looked at her in the mirror when he did it while she switched out some of her earrings. With how he'd caught her eyes when he'd finished and planted a too brief kiss in the spot on her neck that he knew was … just fucking trouble, especially when they'd already found enough trouble showering and getting ready when they were already running short on time.

And she'd felt like enough in those moments with him. She'd felt like herself. Like she wasn't in a costume. That she was just … she was doing what was appropriate for herself and her family and for Hank and for Ethan. And that maybe she was okay acknowledging that all the guys in her life sort of liked seeing her in a skirt on occasion – for their own reasons – and maybe she sort of even liked putting on that little show from time to time too. Maybe it made her feel good about herself in a different way. Confident and comfortable in herself – and her own skin – that maybe she needed more those days in the distance in her relationships and with the changes in them and her body with the pregnancy.

But once again, the mere sight of Steph seemed to make all that slip away. In a matter of moments.

"Erin," Stephanie had declared like she was in pure shock seeing her there. Or maybe more like she had no right to be there. And she was still giving her a greater once-over now that she was standing right in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

Erin had felt herself fidget. She'd hated that. That she was again letting herself get pulled into the bullshit that was St. Ignatius.

The same kind – but lesser bullshit – that what Ethan was going through now. The kind where she was having to stand on the sidelines from that night as she watched kids still make him an outsider even after his little shining moment. Even when he was over there trying so hard to relate to them and to fit in. Over and over again. Even after all they'd put him through in the spring. And all they'd put him through that fall. But they still couldn't even try to … relate to him. To let him in in some way. To just be fucking nice to him – despite his quirks and his absences and his disability and his disfigurements. That they couldn't treat him like a fucking human being – that deserved a life and friends and success and celebration. And to have some fucking cookies and hot chocolate and hot cider made available for him to eat at this fucking thing – instead of toting around a cup of water.

But that didn't seem to be the way high school or teen years – especially when they were contained to Iggy's – seemed to work. At least not for her family. And maybe it took a while to outgrow. And she'd suddenly felt a twang of jealously that Olive had been able to use Henry as an excuse – a reason – to not attend this function tonight. When Erin was sure it was more than that. These halls weren't full of happy memories for Olive or Justin either.

"My brother goes here," Erin said.

Steph and rubbing at her stomach. Erin knew she was trying to make it look like the baby was moving – and maybe it even was. But she also knew Steph – and she knew that the woman was just trying to attract attention and comment about the obscenely obvious fact she was very, very pregnant.

"Oh? You mean your fake brother? I heard he'd died … or something," she said.

Erin stared at her – unsure how to respond to that. How to react without having a reaction – that might turn this into a thing. One that would look bad on her or Ethan or Hank – or her family. One that would give Steph the exact kind of reaction she seemed to want and be looking for. Just like she had in high school.

"Justin died," Erin managed. He was murdered. Brutally. But she wasn't going to say that either. "Ethan, my baby brother, he goes here now."

"Oh …," Stephanie pressed out again, glancing around the place like she was suddenly going to spot her baby brother – or her 'fake baby brother'.

And he was easy enough to spot – if she knew what she was looking for. But Erin wasn't sure Stephanie did. And even if she did, she suspected that Stephanie would want her to spell it out for her. To make it some sort of thing. To turn Ethan into a mark – because of his visible marks and indicators. Like the scars and crutches were the only thing that stood out about him. Like his achievements that night didn't mater. Like the fact that Hank had clearly taken him out and bought him a new shirt and suspenders and bow-tie – that was in holiday colors and patterns, and matched with the rest of his percussion group, and made him look adorable and grown-up and like such a teen-aged boy all at the same time. Like he fit in and belonged there – no matter what the rest of the school or the kids or people like Stephanie tried to make him feel.

"I forgot," Steph said.

Appropriate because Erin suspected that a lot of people at St. Ignatius just wanted to try to pretend they forgot about Ethan – that he didn't exist. Or if they pretended he didn't exist that eventually Ethan – their whole family – would just take the hint and go away … disappear. But that's not how Hank operated. It wasn't how it'd taught Ethan to operate. Or her. Or any of them. It wasn't what it was to be a member of that family. You didn't run. Running created problems. It made things worse. A lesson Erin had learned the hard way – too many times.

Voights - stood their ground. Even in front of a bitch like this where you still felt like you weren't allowed to throw the first punch. But you didn't duck away from the ones they were trying to pull either. Or maybe it was more that you turned the other cheek. Something you'd think that the students at a Catholic school would be learning too. But apparently a lot of them liked to be the ones doing the slapping around.

"That's right. Your … 'godparents' … they had a baby … in junior year? Right?"

Erin nodded a little and felt herself looking at the floor. And she hated that too. She hated that she again had to make herself bite her tongue. That she could still feel Hank's lectures from when she was at St. Ignatius – about one single fight. When right then she so badly wanted to spit at Steph about how she must remember that Ethan was born.

Because Erin had been out of school for a few days – closer to a week – with Camille so touch and go for a bit and Ethan too with the placenta abruption and NICU and his under developed lungs and eyes. How Stephanie had somehow spun that few day absence into a rumor that had followed her and taunted her for her last year at Iggy's. That suddenly the weight she'd gained in the first couple years of living with the Voights and being off the streets and getting actual meals and treats and sweets and exercise that lead to muscle mass and rules that lead to sobriety that took away her pale and emancipated look she'd had when she'd started at Iggy's – that it was actually pregnancy weight. That she'd managed to hide it and lie about it the entire school year and she was away to have the baby – in a toilet the rumor mill had eventually said – and that now her 'godparents' were stuck raising the street-kid-junkie's daughters child too.

"He's Grade Nine," was all Erin pressed out, though. "A freshman."

"Oh …," Stephanie said again, still just fucking looking at her too intensely. "That's so nice – that you're still so involved."

And Erin's eyes pressed at her. She again pressed her tongue down into the bottom of her mouth – to keep from biting it but to stop herself from forming words too.

So involved. There were undertones. Clear ones. But maybe it was the 'still so involved' that stung in a different way – because right now she wasn't. Not the way she'd like to. Not the way on days like that that she wished she was. So she could be with Ethan on the days he went in for a plasma exchange. So she could go to his band concerts and have a full appreciation of just how hard he'd worked. So she knew when Hank had said to her 'he's really into music these days' that it hadn't just been a request for her to return a few of his and Camille's records. It'd been a larger and different message that neither of them had said much about to her in the previous months. That Ethan wasn't just listening to old tracks from her and Justin's CD and MP3 and playlist collections left in rooms and drawers and ancient computers. That he wasn't trying to be a '90's kid or a Millennial or show interest in bands from their generations of his dad's. That it wasn't just that he was blaring angry music in his ears to try to drown out everything else going on in his life. That his value and appreciation of it was … different.

So she was home and had a better idea what to get him for the holidays. And what he was capable of and incapable of and what even his present day interests where. What the hell he was even streaming. To know which Hot Wheels line he was collecting or what cars he'd bought recently. Or what movies he'd already been to in the theatres – and to not just hear it from him – to actually have gotten to go with him. To have seen the fucking Jurassic World exhibit at Field with him on one of the six-zillion times he'd been – but none of them with her and now it was going to be leaving. To take him to RIC and to help chaperone their events. For him to call her or text her when he'd just have an argument with his dad – and for him to actually be able to go and pick him up and get them both out of each other's faces for a few hours rather than just trying to talk him down and reason with him on FaceTime from hundreds of miles away.

For her to have gotten to see his face – live in person and not on a screen – when he'd told her that Eva had kissed him after her birthday party last weekend 'and it was definitely not just like a thanks and goodbye and Merry Xmas type kiss or anything. It was like a kiss. Definitely a kiss. A real kiss. But not like gross or tongues or anything. But I think we're prolly more friends than even like considering being boyfriend-girlfriend or a couple or going out or anything like that. Cuz we're in sorta different places with, you know, stuff and things are way complicated and she doesn't want to date in high school anyways cuz she wants to focus on the opportunities she's got at Iggy's and with getting into a good college and job and alla that'. And to have gotten to give him some sort of sisterly advice live-and-in-person – because she knew it never really got any less complicated and he should enjoy the moment then. The simplicity of a kiss as just a kiss without reading into it. Because maybe it really was just a thank you kiss and he should enjoy just getting to be friends with his friend – because maybe that was the best way to evolve any of these things … relationships … and to figure a way to get them to work out. Slowly over time … because you've taken the time. But maybe that's something you learn or understand at fourteen.

But she wasn't there for all that little day-to-day. Not right now. Not the mundane of little moments intermixed with the fleeting bigger ones that you never seemed to realize until after the fact. Because she wasn't 'so involved' anymore.

But Erin also didn't think Steph really had any concept of what 'so involved' when it came to family really meant.

"We came out to support my step-sister," Steph said. "Cecelia."

Step-sister. Erin didn't think that was the right familial title – but it was interesting, and telling. Cecelia was Steph's half-sister. She remembered that. That Steph's biggest baggage in her oh-so-very-hard teen-aged life was that her parents divorced. That her rich Daddy had left her mom to start a whole other family. Though, 'the bastard tried to beg for forgiveness' by spoiling her even more rotten than the rest of the Mean Girls.

It was likely why she'd gotten to be the Queen Bee of the group. She always had the extras of the extras. The add layer of luxury above and beyond what the rest of their cushy lives looked like. And now apparently her Daddy's whole new family had graduated to take up the Mean Girl rants at Ignatius again.

Sometimes the school passed its torch down the line in strange ways. Generational and legacy families … it was quite the legacy.

Steph twirled around – seemingly knowing exactly where the girl was and dangling her finger like some kind of wand in that direction.

"She's a senior now," she said. "She had the soprano part in the Hallelujah Chorus. All the big name arts schools – well, this is pretty much the scouting session. So rah, rah, family support," she said with a little fake cheer punch and an even faker smile before her hand went back to the baby she was carrying. "Besides, I guess you can't start priming the alumni association and admissions' board too early." She leaned in a bit closer. "You see the kind of people they are having to let in here now," and Erin felt like Steph was almost trying to take a whiff of her to indicate her disdain – like she still somehow carried the smell of a street kid who'd just been puked on by her mom after spending money on a fix rather than on the water bill so she could shower the stench off.

It was clear – she was one of 'those people' that St. Ignatius let in – because Hank and Camille knew Carusso and for no other reason than that, not even her marks or her athletic ability or her skin color or any other kind of diversity that might've helped the school with their public face and P.R. about being an inclusive and open community representative of the entire city and providing opportunities for all its youth no matter their start or background. And it wasn't just her who was 'those people' it was Justin and now it was Ethan – and Erin knew both her brother had people in that school look at them and treat them the same way.

"Who knows what it will be like in fourteen years," Steph added.

But then she backed off, giving her another little smile and more of firm examination. Like she'd … made her point. And maybe she had. Like she had the upper hand like she did in high school. And maybe like St. Ignatius just always did. Like they did now with Ethan - even if Hank had the administrators slightly by the balls after what had happened in June. That he'd been able to dictate a lot of stipulations to keep the school and certain families from embarrassment.

But Erin wasn't sure how much any of that had really protected Eth. Not the way she wanted to reach out and protect him some days – despite his brave face in trying to handle it on his own, to keep moving forward and to not let them get the better of him.

But even within that she knew … she didn't care what St. Ignatius looked like in fourteen years. She hardly cared what it looked like right now – beyond ensuring that it didn't eat her baby brother alive. Eat him alive faster than the disease was causing his body to attack and eat at itself. Destroy him before it was able to.

In another four years – Erin never intended to ever set foot in place again. And she couldn't imagine sending her children to any sort of private school or patriarchal school. Not after her experience. Not after her brothers' experiences. And not after Jay's experiences at his.

She'd take different risks and different routes. And make her own decisions and mistakes that her kids could hate her for. She'd see just how different the battles would be in the public system – whatever it looked like in fourteen or so years.

"Yea … congratulations on …" Erin allowed though, because she didn't want to … engage in the way Steph was trying to bait her. But she also only allowed herself to gesture at the woman's mid-section. Because she didn't want to say 'pregnancy'. Because that … maybe it humanized it too much. Erin had met – dealt with – worse monsters than the likes of Steph and the rest of her clique. But there were lots of different breeds and variation of monsters. And, somehow already knowing Steph's intentions for her child's upbringing and the kind of person that seemed to breed, Erin also didn't want to … humanize any of it too much. Because those people … people like that … they could be so dehumanizing to others.

And Erin hoped she could do better. That her and Jay could do better. That whatever they created by nature and then nurtured through childhood and moulded into … their kind of human being – that there wouldn't be other people in society that would be pointing at them and just saying they were their own breed of monster too. Because maybe they were. Maybe children who grow up in cop and law enforcement families are vilified from the start. Maybe they have their own sense of entitlement. And their own slanted morals and way of looking at the world. And maybe they approached things in their own way … that ended up crafting them into 'those people' that Steph was talking about. The kind of creatures that people like her looked at as their own kind of little monsters.

And some how that kind of made her ache too. Because maybe castes and cliques and the in-crowd and the popular kids and the Mean Girls really just existed from the get. And they were all a little screwed. But maybe there was some hope – glimmers of it – that there was starting to be a change in their society. And maybe her kids would see those shifts by the time they were in high school. Maybe society would be different. Or Chicago would be different. Or America would be different. Or the world.

But that just sounded like some wishy-washy rich people folk song like some of the Christmas carols that had been muttered out at them in semi-talented sing-song in the auditorium.

The acknowledgement of the obvious only drew a bigger smile from Steph, though. She pawed at her mound even more.

"She's due on the twenty-ninth," she said. "But we're ordering her to hold off. Jonathan already has the OB-GYN all booked for us to get induced on the thirty-first. And I swear, I won't be doing any pushing until we're near the stroke of midnight. Chicago's New Year's baby," she said and caressed her belly some more. "Can you imagine? Get you a name for yourself right from your first breath," she told the infant inside her.

And Erin just stared. Because … what do you say to … that?

The silence seemed to make Steph think she'd bested her again. Though, maybe Steph had bested herself, if she really stopped to think about it.

"I just figure get it one-and-done now," she said. "I mean, can you believe we're already in our thirties."

One-and-done. Like it was some kind of obligation and chore. One that Steph didn't seem to want. An accessory. And that made Erin sad too. Because her context might be different, but she knew what it was like to have a mother like that. What it was like to grow up constantly being used as a means to an end. For it to be about her and never about you.

And people like that … they shouldn't be mothers. They didn't deserve to raise a family. To have a child. They didn't know how. But, Erin supposed, Steph and the Baby Daddy could likely afford to pay someone else to do take care of it. All of it.

"Yea … it's hard to believe," Erin said.

All of it.

"Time just flies," Steph said.

And it was another thing that Erin didn't think Steph could have a true appreciation of. Not the same way she did. Not the way you did when the woman who took you in and tried to mould you into a better human being and adult – better than anything Stephanie could hope to be and lessons that Erin hoped more and more every day they drew closer to May that they'd stuck – is dead … before her fiftieth birthday. Not when the brother you were raised with is shot in the head and left to die. Not when the baby brother that you've helped raise is being slowly taken away from you bit by bit and you know he's likely going to be dead and gone before you and you can't – you don't want to – imagine when that day will come or just how it will feel. Not when you've had other people you life taken away from you and you've done a job that means you've shortened the time that other families have had with people they cared about – no matter what kind of monsters they were too. Not when you're living in another city – away from the people you love and care about most, away from your family – and you feel like time is charging toward something and slipping away and crawling at a snail's pace all at the same time.

"We'll be old ladies soon," Steph said. And Erin thought that scared her for very different reasons too. And also didn't – because she wanted to be there for all of it. She didn't want to be missing any of it – like she felt like she was now. "See each other here again for our kid's Christmas pageant. I mean, don't worry, I only meant if you ever—"

But then Jay was there at her side. From somewhere and nowhere. And he gave Steph the once-over – the same kind of look – that Erin had been under for the past several minutes.

"Hey," he said, meeting her eyes and cutting off Steph – shutting her up – all at once. "Your dad wants to get out of here in about ten minutes."

"Okay," Erin mouthed.

But Steph's eyes were back on her. "Your dad? So you found him? He's like out of—"

"He means Hank," Erin said flatly.

But Jay's eyes darted at Steph. "I mean the guy who raised her," he near hissed at her in Erin's defence. "That tends to be the person who should get the 'dad' title."

"Oh …," Steph was taken aback for a moment. "I only meant—"

"I know what you meant," Jay spat at her.

And Steph straightened and stared at him. "And you are?"

"Jay—" Erin started to provide for him.

But he cut her off again. "Her fiancée."

Steph looked at her surprised. "You're engaged? Seriously?"

And Erin felt Steph's eyes darting to her hand – to her ring finger – searching for the evidence. That was there. That Steph had likely already seen but hadn't registered – because it wasn't a rock or a Titanic-sized gem on a sparkling band.

But Jay didn't let that search happen either. He quickly reached and found her hand – clutching it in his and hiding the ring out of sight, protectively in his palm. Because she could tell that he didn't feel that Stephanie deserved to see that piece of them – or to question it. That she didn't get to cast judgements on a ring that his grandfather had given his grandmother and that she'd passed down to her daughter so she could have a wedding band when his father couldn't – or wouldn't – part with the money to buy her one himself to express his love or devotion. It was instead the love of his grandfather to his grandmother and of parents to their daughter and to their grandson. It was a piece of his family – and now the family she was making with him. And that also wasn't something Steph could understand, Erin didn't think. And it wasn't something Jay was going to give her a chance even try to comprehend.

"Ah, so when's the wedding?" Stephanie asked instead, casting Jay a look and another once-over. Erin could see her eyes. She could tell that she was taking in Jay – and his suit – his nice suit. Measuring him up – and down. And Erin was used to seeing women look at Jay that way – and she only half-cared. But right then she did care. Because she'd seen Stephanie give other boys – and men – that look.

"We haven't set a date yet," Erin admitted.

"But we've almost set a venue," Jay said. "For the function, the reception."

Erin gave him a bit of a look – because they hadn't talked about the wedding yet. They were still in the process of trying to talk about their relationship and what made sense for it going forward. The words wedding or marriage had yet to be uttered from Jay's mouth. The wedding bands were still tucked away in the top sock drawer – a reality she checked near every time she was home. They hadn't been returned but he hadn't broached the topic in that way since June – when he told her he didn't want to marry her and who she was now … then.

"Oh …?" Stephanie's eyes lit up – like she was getting some kind of inside scoop. One that even Erin didn't have – but one that she knew didn't exist. Because he was just playing with Steph. And Erin didn't mind. At all.

"Yea," Jay said. "Well, we've got in narrowed down to two. We were thinking Carmine's – you know, down the street, in The Village."

"Oh …," Stephanie said confused but Erin smiled at it. That was family. That was just … a pure proclamation of family out of Jay. Of acknowledgement of … the family she'd been raised by and the traditions attached to it and the person it made her and the connections she had to the community for better or worse. To a community bigger and different than this.

"Or, Gene & Jude's."

Stephanie squinted at him. "Do you mean … the hot dog place?" she asked confused.

Jay nodded. "Our kind of place. No seats. No ketchup. No pretence. No nonsense."

Erin smiled more and looked at him. She looked at him and held back a laugh. And she thought that … it was even better than the proposal she'd gotten from him. And she held his hand tighter. Because – it also was so fucking them. He was right. Even though he was just fishing for a reaction. One that Stephanie couldn't seem to figure out what it should be.

She didn't have to, though. Because it was Ethan who appeared next, giving her a look of concern.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, taking his turn to give Steph a once-over. One that nearly looked more unimpressed than Jay's.

"Yea," Erin allowed. "We were just talking. I went to school here with—"

"Oh," Ethan interjected. "It's Regina, right? Regina George?"

And Jay did allow a quiet scoff to escape his mouth at that. And it only made one slip out of Erin's mouth too. Stephanie's confused face betrayed the fact she didn't immediately get the Mean Girl reference but then she did and her eyes set back on Erin. There was anger there that gave way to hurt. But again – Erin wasn't sure she cared. Maybe Stephanie deserved to have her own realization that night too.

Maybe if more fucking St. Ignatius people – current and alumni – did, the school might actually look and feel different in fourteen years.

"It's Stephanie," she offered, her hurt eyes moving between Jay and Ethan.

"Right," Ethan said casually. "Yea, I've heard all kinds of stuff about you. Basically."

And Steph's eyes set on Erin again. But she only reached and fussed at Ethan's little tuffs of hair sticking to his forehead.

"C'mon," she encouraged. "Dad's ready to call it a night."

And Eth just shrugged and lead the way – through the past and current set of assholes in the reception hall. And Jay kept hold of her hand as they did walk away from that past ghost – and experience – that Erin did much care to look at again or bother saying 'goodbye', 'good luck', or 'good riddance' too.

But maybe she did – because maybe these days she did need moments and experiences again like that just to put things into perspective. And to remind her that – she was okay. She turned out okay. And she had lots of people – important people – and support around her to make sure she and the new life and family that arrived in May – to make sure it stayed that way. Okay … or maybe even better. If she let it.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **OK. So I know that went on a tangent that I didn't entirely expect to go on in quite that way. So not quite as light as I promised. That said, the next chapter will be the Erin/Eth chapter (sort of continuation of the very beginning of this scene), and it will be lighter and very dialogue heavy. Which i know some of you like.**

 **There might be a very short chapter/scene after that that's from Erin's POV and then I might cut away and switch to Hank's POV for the continuation of that scene in a separate chapter. It will be the chapter you've been 'waiting' for. If the Erin's POV is going well — it might end up just being hers. But I think it'd be interesting to do it as split and the moment from Hank's.**

 **After that the current plan is a Erin/Jay scene — not sure who's POV — but it will be a debrief and discussion.**

 **Then there might be another shorty that's an Erin POV and will feature Erin/Hank/Platt/Eth/Henry (and likely Woods).**

 **And then the other chapter you've been waiting for will be coming up with Erin/Jay/Eth. Not sure who's POV it will be.**

 **Your readership, comments, feedback and reviews are appreciated.**

 **Also — two chapters were posted yesterday (Chapter 21 and 21 — The Thing About Elephants and the Deal). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them. They are from Jay's POV. One is a Jay/Erin scene and the other is a Jay/Hank.**


	24. Memories Past

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 ************* PLEASE NOTE:** **three chapters were posted within 24 hours of each other (Chapter 21-23 — The Thing About Elephants, The Deal, and Mean Girl). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them. ***************

Things in perspective. Erin needed that that night. Or maybe just permanently at this point. To be rooted in reality – even though reality had a way of tending to sneak up on her and bashing her over the head every time she maybe took her eye off it too much. Or got too comfortable with it. Too ambivalent.

She couldn't be that way anymore. She didn't need the additional stress of trying to ever bounce back fully from one of those concussions.

Besides – staying rooted in reality, even when it was a hard reality to exist in – seemed to make things easier. Maybe it just made her feel more rooted. Or more in control. Like she had some sort of control. Or maybe it was more that she could still catch sight of the support net for if/when she needed it. And even though she wanted to act like she didn't need it – she'd started to come to accept that she really did. And not did she just need it, these days she wanted – needed – to know it was there. Not just for her. It needed to be there for others now for if the bottom did ever fall out from under her – them – again.

Something would grab them all to at least give them a fleeting chance to catch themselves and right things before they hit the ground. She sort of felt like that was where she'd been in April and May and June. That she'd gone for a tumble into that net and it'd grabbed her – harshly.

It'd stopped her fall but she'd laid there with the wind knocked out of her for a while before she was able to peel herself up and then try to find her footing in that unstable surface. Her body swinging and swaying and her feet still falling through all the holes in that netting even though it stopped her from falling right through.

Now she'd worked her way to the edge. She was at the bottom rung of that ladder to climb back up the trapeze in the fucking circus that was her life – and the life of her family. She still had a fucking long way to climb up on that narrow, swinging, tilting ladder. But she was at it and ready to start pulling herself up. To get back up on the trapazze with her partner – and the rest of her act – and to try to figure out how to make a show of it. And to know that even if she – or Jay – lost grip again, or let go or slid out of each other's slippery fingers, as long as they managed to fall right and didn't break their neck, back or spine on the way down, there was a net there. In Chicago. In the home she was in right now. In the family she'd been brought into and in the family she'd made. Even though that support net came with its own broken bones, scrapes and purple-black bruises on occasion, she'd decided she was really happy it was there. That she – the family she was making – needed it there. So she needed to be there too – over that fucking net.

"I'm not acting goofy," Ethan protested at her weakly while still keeping his hands on her face.

He was so fucking stoned. Hank hadn't even tried to mask the fact that he'd given Ethan his medical pot – the CBD drops – almost as soon as they'd gotten home. Erin had been surprised at how quickly it'd kicked in. Ethan was off on a different plane within about fifteen minutes of it getting into his system. He'd wandered upstairs muttering about changing but had never reappeared. She'd said something to Hank and he'd just said that the way the body processed the stuff when he had the cleaned plasma in him was different – and that it helped avoid his body going into an inflammatory reaction, and thus hopefully ward off the potential for additional hospital time or the doctors pushing steroids at them. He'd said it wasn't so much that Ethan was out of it – that it really bad him that stoned – it was that it resulted in some orthostatic intoleration and hypotension. Basically he felt light-headed and a little dizzy and liked to lie down. But it also meant he'd be having less inflammation and perpherial pain that night and would hopefully sleep well after being all hyped up with the concert after an exhausting medical day.

Hank had actually formed sentences with her. He'd actually told her something about his treatment and its protocols and what any of it was supposed to be doing for her little brother. And he'd also said that the first twenty-four to thirty-six hours after the plasma exchange, Ethan was pretty spent but then they usually got several days – if not a week or so – where he was much more himself. Where he was much more the full, real, happy, functional boy. Even if it was short lived and even though each dose of his daily medication usually added hours of less functionality, headache and nausea. But – if it was like most months – by Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, she should get to see her little brother. The best parts of him.

And Erin had been left to wonder if that was part of Hank's Christmas gift to her. Or maybe it was a gift to himself. Or Ethan.

Or maybe it just was what it was.

But she was still grateful to know that there were some days where her brother was still her brother. For all of them.

Still, though, she'd started to get concerned when she hadn't heard any more movement upstairs and Ethan hadn't reappeared – nor had Bear, his ever companion. So she'd headed up to check on him. Hank had called at her before she was barely halfway up the stairs that he'd be in the master bedroom on the bed.

And he was right. Ethan hadn't even changed yet. He'd just flopped on the bed in his new fancy clothes. Bear laying on the floor keeping guard – just lifting his head to see who it was that was coming in to check on his boy. He'd looked at her with sad eyes but then settled his massive skull and jowls back down, as she got into bed with her brother and asked if he was okay. He'd never really given her an answer. He just started at her with those dilated, tired eyes and pawed at her face like he was trying to figure out if she was really there while muttering about how happy he was she was there.

"If you aren't acting goofy, you're acting tired," she told him and ran her hand down his bicep.

It was still that of a boy who hadn't managed to tip over into puberty yet – and maybe never would now depending on what and how Hank decided he was going to deal with that and cope with putting Ethan and his uncooperative and compromised body through more. But there'd been a point at the hospital where she was helping him change out of the gown – helping him between his vomiting and the even more stoned-dopiness of the allergen they'd pumped into him during the exchange – that he'd apparently seen her eyes staring at the permanent port they'd placed into him. But he'd made a joke instead.

He'd pointed out to her how his thin, frail looking chest and ribs and stomach – and non-existent little boy abs – were actually that of a swimmer's body. A scuba diver, he'd said. And he'd flexed his arms to show off his 'muscle' – which he did actually have after years of being on his crutches now. It was about the only place in his body you could still tell he had some muscle. Where it hadn't all wasted away. But he hadn't credited it to the crutches. He'd credited it to swimming and kayaking in the pool – and that maybe in the spring and summer he'd get to do both in the lake. Or he'd get to go on the RIC scuba diving trip back to Florida, if he managed to get certified that spring – and they'd go diving looking for ship wrecks and pirate treasure. And he'd said it with such little boy amazement – like it was on the list of the coolest things in the world. And maybe it was. His own privateer.

He'd blabbered about their time at Harry Potter land and Jurassic Park and hunting for shark teeth. He'd reminded her that Star Wars land would be opening soon. And that Pixar Land would be opening in the spring – and that maybe Olive and Henry would want to go to that so maybe Hank would too. And then they could go deep sea fishing and take a trip as a whole family that time. Between him looking for his treasure.

Funny. She'd realized while he was saying it he was already the family's treasure. And maybe the concept of doing a family trip – at some point in the future, all of them – was appealing in its own way. Something else to hold onto.

But right now he just looked stoned and he just felt cold. Hank's bedroom just felt cold and Ethan hadn't even pulled any blankets up over himself.

"You think maybe you should change into your pajamas and crawl into bed," she suggested to him.

"I think you're wearing make-up," he mumbled at her.

She smiled a bit and reached to finally draw his hands away from her face – because she was and he likely shouldn't be getting the exchange chemicals and pastes and whatever they put in that stuff all over his hands only to end up rubbed in his eyes or elsewhere.

"I put on my best lip gloss just for your big night," she teased him.

A little smiled pulled at lips. "It's real make-up," he said. "Not lip balm."

"Hmm …," she acknowledged.

"You look pretty," he mumbled.

She allowed a little sound of amusement. Because she knew it was sincere but he sounded so mumble it was hard to take it that way.

"Thank you, Ethan," she allow flatly, just telling him what he needed to hear.

"You look pretty without make-up too," he added, like he sensed she might've not taken it was a compliment – and that somehow made it better.

"Thank you, Ethan," she told him again and swiped a bit at his hair.

He was such a walking contradiction of little boy and teen-aged boy and old man beyond his years. Some times it was hard to know how you should treat him or see him in a single moment. "What do you think?" she put to him again. "Want me to get Daddy to come up and help you get into the shower? Warm you up a bit and wash that day away?"

He made a little sound and squirreled out from under her touch just slightly.

"I liked the day fine."

It was clear he didn't want to move. He'd staked a claim there in bed – in his dad's bed and in his mom's spot. He wasn't going to move. And there was a part of Erin that wished that could be true forever – but another part of her that knew him taking up residence there was just adding to the whole sleep – or rather lack of sleep – situation going on in that house.

"Ethan, you're cold," she stressed at him.

That only made him flop his arm over himself and pat at the mattress.

Erin heard Bear get up but she still wasn't expecting the big dog to suddenly jump up onto the bed, the dated mattress sagging a bit with his weight.

"Bear," she ordered, sitting up a bit to reach to push him right back down.

But Ethan propped himself up on his elbow and grabbed at his dog's cowl as the oversized mutt gave her his best hurt puppy dog look.

"He's allowed," Ethan whined at her.

She gave her brother a look and really pressed the dog off the bed. It caused a clump and a click of claws. And an absolute dejected look from both of the "little" boys in the room.

"THAT MUTT BETTER NOT BE UP ON THE BED!" Hank bellowed from somewhere off downstairs.

Erin raised her eyebrow at her brother. He just scrunched up his face at her.

"HE'S NOT!" he yelled firmly back at his dad.

Erin could about feel Hank's eyes roll all the way downstairs. It made hers roll at Ethan too.

"Thought he's allowed up on your dad's bed," Erin sassed at him, keeping the raised eyebrow of disapprove fixed on him.

"He is," Ethan muttered but sagged back to laying down.

"Right, Ethan," she said. "It really sounded like it."

"He is," Ethan grumbled. "Dad's just being-"

"Ethan, don't try to play me. There is no way your dad would let Bear in the bed. Ever. You lay with dogs …"

He stared at her. "Bear's number two on his Pain in the Ass list," Ethan mumbled.

Erin raised her eyebrow at him and reached again to try to work at calming him and convincing him that he was ready to let his body rest – and sleep. So that hopefully she did get to see this "whole new boy" routine that got toted to her. The one she hadn't yet really seen or experienced with her own eyes. And as much as she wanted to believe these AIDS drugs repurposed for progressive M.S. with optic neuritis and peripheral neuropathic involvement when combined with traditional M.S. injection, regular cleansing and handfuls of vitamins and supplements and dietary regulation somehow … stalled, if not halted, the progression at least for the time being and give glimmers of hope for Ethan's life and future, at least on a few days a month basis, she still found it a little hard to believe. Or at least hard to fully imagine and visualize what that might look like anymore – right now. Though, maybe she'd seen glimpses of it earlier in the evening. But right now – she was just seeing a kid who'd spent a day being poked and prodded at the hospital and now was stoned out of his head. It was making it hard to remember anything about his evening at the concert – beyond him puking in the wings.

Though, she stopped and reminded herself about perspective. About the little moments. And keeping it all in perspective.

This was that too.

"Is that a good thing?" she asked.

Ethan made a little grunt and nodded. "It means he's the second least annoying. So he's allowed in the bed. Or he should be. We are."

She allowed an amused sound, as she continued to check his eyes and his forehead and the texture and temperature of his skin. As she worried and fussed and measured. And then settled to slip her head under his chin and around his neck and ear to find his pulse – to count carefully where it was at with all they was pumping through his system. Drugs, medications, new plasma, disease, excitement, adrenaline, fatigue. That was enough for a healthy body to try to cope with.

He let her though – he just stared at her while she assured herself of where it was.

"Who's least annoying?" she asked.

"Henry," Ethan muttered.

"Mmm …," she acknowledged. "I'm not sure I agree with that."

"Me neither! But Dad says little kids, little problems. Big kids …"

"Mmm …," she allowed. "I've heard that line before. So where are we on this list?"

Ethan gave her a little smile and a little shrug. "Dad says we're pretty tied for biggest pains in his ass. Most days."

She smiled at him and shook her head. "The same but different …," she quipped. Another one of Hank's favorite lines. 'Love you the same, treat you as individuals.'

"Pretty much …," Ethan managed.

She nodded. "Well, I'm not sure I agree with Bear being on this list since he's not a person."

"I like him better than most people," Ethan interjected.

Erin gave him a sad smile at that reality. She knew the feeling and she again tried to get that matted piece of his tuffed hair to stop clinging to his forehead.

"Dogs don't belong in beds," she pressed at him.

"He's warm," Ethan argued so tiredly. "You said I'm cold."

She looked at him more directly. "If you want to leech off Bear's body heat, you do it your bed. Not here. Your dad bought you that nice new mattress," she tried.

He grunted and squirreled again. "So, if it's a new mattress, you think Dad likes him in it either?"

She raised her eyebrow again at him – trying to let him know he'd just revealed how much he'd been stretching the truth and trying to play her before. Hank didn't like animals in bed. He barely let Bear up on the couch. Or so he claimed. She was pretty sure she'd seen bits of furry evidence left on the couch that proved Bear was doing what he wanted during the day. Or that Ethan was doing what he wanted when him and his dog had the house to themselves after school. Though, she also suspected that Hank and his rules for Bear might fall in the "do as I say, not as I do" category – because she'd seen how he was with the dog, especially when he thought no one was looking. Hank wasn't so tough. And Erin thought that ultimately her bringing the puppy home hadn't just been for – a friend – for Ethan.

Strays – abandoned little animals – had a way of finding their way into the lives of the people who needed them most. Maybe she'd like to believe that was true for people too. It wasn't just her who had needed the Voights – or Hank – all those years ago now. Maybe they'd needed her too. Maybe that made it a bit easier to think about the debts and baggage around it she'd created for herself. And maybe Hank had about the same philosophy about it. Another one of his lines … that parents tended to get the children they needed and deserved.

That made her wonder what kind of children she needed or deserved. What when she started to think about it – the kind of trials and debts she thought might be attached to it too. Karma. The kind that might be waiting to bite her in the ass come May. Badly.

Ethan decided not to engage with her non-verbal response, though. He wasn't so dumb.

"I don't like it," tried to spit but it just sounded like a weak little boy whine. "It's a hospital bed."

"It's a rising bed frame," she put to him a touch more firmly. "Because the doctors say you're going to feel better if we raise up your head and legs a bit."

He shook his head a bit at her and stared. "It's more comfortable here."

She reached and cupped the back of his head a bit. "I don't think you or your dad are getting much sleep when you're in here."

He just stared at her. And stared.

"So then we sleep downstairs," he mumbled.

"On the air mattress?" She raised her eyebrow at him yet again to try to display her displeasure at that whole situation to him. But even trying to get him to understand and have a constructive conversation about it right now was likely beyond useless. He wasn't in a state to handle it. Hank even sober got his back up against the wall every time she tried to bring it up.

"Front room camp out," Ethan muttered.

Another line he'd picked up from Hank and this one she sort of wished he hadn't. It wasn't a family sleep over or movie night in a pile on the floor. It wasn't an all-night of munchies and video games with his friends.

This behavior didn't need to be continued or normalized. It was a habit that needed to be broken. Or at least that was her perspective and she didn't think she was wrong – because Olive had expressed her own concerns too. The overall lack of sleep. The fact that Hank and Ethan were both clinging to each other on that air mattress all night like it was some kind of lifeboat. That it – or that time together – was the only thing giving them any comfort to keep them afloat headed into the next day.

But … it wasn't healthy … or normal …. It just couldn't be good for them. So maybe she shouldn't protest Ethan being in his parents bed right now. Maybe them sleeping in that room was better – a step toward the change. Or maybe a step toward getting Ethan into his own bed that night. To figure out how to make him less scared about closing his eyes alone and how to just get more comfortable in the visible reminder of his illness' progression in his bedroom and to just … realize that the new fucking mattress that Hank had spent a ridiculous amount of money on (more than Erin knew CPD's insurance would reimburse him for) was actually pretty comfortable. She knew – because she worked at trying to get Eth to stay there – to go to bed in his own room – when she was home. And she'd fallen asleep in that bed next to her brother – reading to him – more than once.

But then his hands landed back on her cheeks – pulling her from her contemplation of how to resolve this. Her wondering how cruel it would be to play the Eva card – that the girl wouldn't ever want to be his girlfriend if she knew he was needing to go and sleep with his dad or sleep down in the living room every night. To tell him he wasn't a little boy and he needed to grow up. When she wasn't sure he was going to grow up.

"What are you doing?" she asked – slightly annoyed but smiled a bit too. She didn't get an answer, though. "Do you do this to your dad?"

"Yes …," Ethan muttered from far away.

"Mmm …," Erin acknowledged. "I don't think that's helping him sleep much."

Ethan's eyes stirred enough to find hers. "Your face feels different than Dad's."

She smiled at that stoned observation. "I'd hope so. I waxed my moustache just for you too."

A smile tugged a bit at Ethan's lips as that registered. It was a joke – and wasn't. Pregnancy did insane things to your hormones – and body.

"I like how Dad's face feels at night …," Ethan mumbled and tested at her cheeks some more. "He shaved for the pageant. It doesn't feel right tonight."

"Mmm …," she allowed. "Maybe you should go rub Jay's cheeks instead." Jay would absolutely hate that. On so many different levels. It was actually probably a bad idea to even joke about – especially with Ethan in this state of mind. He might take her seriously.

But he didn't pick up on the sarcasm anyway. "He has like a beard almost. Basically …"

"He does …," Erin agreed. For now.

Ethan considered that carefully. Like it was something that needed careful consideration.

"Dad doesn't have a beard," he said.

"No. Facial hair doesn't grow quite that fast, Eth. And, I think your dad is shaving a lot more regularly than Jay these days."

His eyes gazed at her. Penetrated her really. Some of his dopiness seemed to fade as he looked at her.

"Do you like his beard?"

She allowed a thin, sad smile and touched his cheek one more time. "Sometimes," she said.

"Not right now?" Ethan asked.

She allowed a small sigh and a little shrug.

"'Cuz he's just not shaving 'cuz he's sad?" Ethan offered. "He seems sad lately. Or maybe … just sorta always."

She gave a small nod but felt her smile fade a bit. "A little," she acknowledged.

"It sees kinda worse lately. Is it 'cuz Christmas is when his mom died?" Ethan asked.

Erin exhaled a bit and gave a small nod. "That's part of it. But … you know … sometimes … people who do the kind of jobs we do. Sometimes … it just ends up taking a toil on you. The stuff we see and do. So for Jay - work has been hard on him this fall."

"I know," Ethan said. "He doesn't have time to hang out as much."

"Mmm …," Erin allowed. "But he told me he's working at finding more time to just hang out lately."

Because she didn't think either her or Ethan were in a place to really talk about everything that had happened that year – that spring and summer and fall. That past two years or five years or seven years – or whatever number they wanted to put on it. And she didn't want to try to explain PTSD to Ethan. He had his own. He knew what it was – in his own way. Some days she thought he understood it in a better – though different way – than the rest of them.

And she didn't want to dwell on that either. Or dwell on Jay's PTSD – or all the things that had triggered it and made it bubble up to the surface with a vengeance this year. The way it was trying to explode out of him. How they needed to figure out how to calm that volcano – if there was ever really a way to do that – so it didn't erupt.

Ethan squirreled a bit. "Yea …," he said. "We watched all these Last Jedi theories. Jay says Rey is gonna be a Palaptine. But I don't think so."

"No?" Erin put to him. She didn't have a fucking clue who or what a Palaptine was and she was afraid to ask. She might fall asleep first if she let Ethan give her that extended explanation.

"Are we going to see the movie?" he pressed – again, much more coherently. "While you're home? Tomorrow?"

She gave him a smile. "While I'm home. Not tomorrow."

He sunk a bit on the bed and started at her. "What are we gonna do tomorrow?"

"I think that's going to depend on when you go to sleep tonight and how you're feeling in the morning," she nodded at him.

"We could go to Field. So you can see Jurassic World before it leaves," he suggested eagerly and she inadvertently let a little sigh escape. He interpreted as annoyance and shifted slightly. "MSI has a robotics exhibit right now," he tried. "And Lego. We haven't gone to Lego yet. Me and Dad. 'Cuz he thought Jay would like it better but he hasn't taken me either. And it leaves soon too."

She gave his cheek a little touch – to try to get him to calm. "Eth, I don't think we need to be running around the city trying to do everything while I'm home. I'm going to be happy to just get to spend some time with all you guys."

He let a sad little sigh escape and stared at her. "But you're hardly home. We should do stuff."

Erin gave his cheek a stroke again. "What we need to be doing is making sure you get your rest so you're well enough that we get to see each other as much as possible this trip."

He still looked so deflated. "It's just hard," he said. "It's easier if I know the schedule. So then I can try to make sure I have energy and am ready and all that."

"What we all you want you to be ready for is Christmas," she offered. "So you had a busy day – and night. You need to rest and rebound so in a few days – we all have a really nice day."

His eyes still stayed set on her. "Are you still only staying until the day after Christmas?" he near whispered.

It was Erin's turn to let a quiet sigh escape and she shrugged a little. "I haven't really decided yet."

"But if you're making me rest all the way to Christmas that means we aren't going to get to do anything," he protested weakly.

"Well," she said and that time found his hand to give it a little squeeze. It was cold. "I think what I'm going to do is call my boss on the twenty-sixth and see how things look."

"If he'll give you more time off?"

She shrugged. "It's more … lawyers sometimes play this game, where on holidays they think people are distracted. That our office is understaffed and the media isn't looking – so they file all sorts of things hoping they get caught up in a pile of catch up or just all out missed. And if they do that – then I'm likely going to have to go with Plan A. But – if things don't look too bad, I'll try to stay a few more days."

"Until New Year's?" Ethan asked – with too much excitement.

"Maybe," she allowed. She'd like that – but she didn't think it was realistic.

"But – tradition, Erin," Ethan whined again. "Take out and movies. And Dad's dinner – Oma's dinner! And Pass the Pig!"

"Aren't you getting a movie day on Christmas," she teased, giving him a little poke in the hope of distracting him. "I thought that's what you asked for."

"So!?" he whined harder. "That's a day! New Year's Eve is a movie night! Popcorn. I'm like eighty percent sure that Olive is going to get my a popcorn popper. Since you and dad won't."

Erin smiled at him. "Is that so?"

He shrugged at her a little smugly.

"Mmm …," she allowed. "I might have to talk to her about that." She doubted that Olive would. She'd know that corn wasn't the best idea for Ethan's body – no matter how much he thought he wanted it.

He huffed at her. "And New Year's is tradition too. And family time."

"I know," she acknowledged and gripped at his hand. "But I'm just going to have to make the most of the family time I've got. We all will. Okay?"

He sighed and broke eye contact. Erin squeezed his hand a little firmer until he looked at her.

"We'll have a nice family day filled with all sorts of traditions on Christmas," she said. "Promise. And we'll try to fit in some new traditions and maybe one outing while I'm home. Okay?"

"Star Wars and one outing?" he tried.

She smiled a little at his persistence – and that he'd spotted her trying to get that one by him. Only so dopey and only so dumb.

"We'll see."

"Jay's coming to all the Christmas stuff, right?" Ethan asked.

Erin nodded a little. "Absolutely. He likes our traditions. We talked about that on the drive home."

Ethan's forehead scrunched. "Like how? About what?"

"Mmm …," she said and rested her head on the mattress while she gazed at her brother. "Like how his family didn't have too many traditions growing up. But some he remembered."

"Like what?" Ethan asked.

"Mmm …," she said again. "Like smoked trout."

Ethan grinned at that. "I told Dad that we should do Seven Fishes dinner on Christmas Eve like grandma and grandpa. And Dad said we could compromise and get Calumet's instead."

Erin smiled at that. "I think Jay would really like that."

"What other traditions did he have as a kid?"

"His mom would make mincemeat pie," she said.

"What's that?" Ethan asked. "That's like … like in the movies? Christmas pudding?"

"Mmm … I don't think so. I think Christmas pudding is sort of like your mom's gingerbread cake."

Ethan thought about that. "Dad says gingerbread cake is just the polite name for it. That it's really Poor Man's Pudding. But we don't call it that 'cuz we're rich in better ways."

Erin allowed a small smile and again found herself fussing to try to get that tuff to leave his forehead – to return to his head where it was one of his few patches of hair.

"He's right."

"Is mincemeat like ground beef?" Ethan asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I think … I'd have to Google it." And she realized she'd likely … absorbed a part of Jay, maybe because she had a part of him growing inside of her and possibly already projecting him and who he was. And she smiled a bit at that strange reality. "I think it's more like Christmas cake in a pie."

"We should check," Ethan said. "I bet we could make it. Olive is sorta almost 'kay at baking. And you're good at some of Mom's recipes. So just don't let dad help and it might taste okay. If something called mincemeat can like taste okay. It's sort of a disgustingly gross name."

She smiled more a that and allowed her hand to fall from picking at him and to just take him in. "It is," she agreed.

"Jay has other traditions," Ethan said. "Like his grandpa gave him and Will video games at Christmas. Hockey and football."

"You remember that?" She raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "And Santa wrapped ALL the gifts in his and Will's stockings. He says the elves assigned to our house are lazy."

She raised her eyebrow farther and shook her head - and rolled her eyes. Because she'd heard that one in the car too. But she was perfectly happy being classified as a 'lazy elf' if it meant she didn't have to wrap tubes of lip balm and navel oranges at Christmas.

"Do you think Dad is going to have his own traditions with Henry?" Ethan asked – out of nowhere. And she looked at him. "Like popa-grandkid stuff? Like Jay and his grandpa?"

And she looked at him. She processed that. She thought about it. And she hoped he would. Not just with Henry.

"Your dad likes tradition," she allowed.

"He likes routines, schedules and organization," Ethan corrected.

"Proper police planning," she quipped at her brother.

It got a small smile. Knowing Hank's little quirks and sayings and mantras – that sort of felt like family tradition too. But maybe there was something to be said for tradition – and the shared experience and structure … the connection … it created.

"I think me and Dad might have a tradition for Henry. For at Christmas," Ethan said.

"Yea?"

He gave a little nod. "Like we made him something last year. And we did this year too."

"Yea?" she questioned again – maybe a touch more eagerly.

"Yea," Ethan said with another tired but prideful smile tugging at his mouth's corners. "It's in the shed. But don't go look. It's a surprise."

She poked at him in the ribs, getting a small, involuntary giggle out of him. "Tell me not to and I'm really going to."

"No wonder you're Dad's biggest pain in the ass," Ethan said, squirreling away from her poke a bit.

"Mmm … maybe today," she said. "Not necessarily tomorrow."

He stared at her again. And she stared at him for a bit. He quieted and thought maybe as the silence stretched he was thinking of letting himself sleep. She weighed whether she should try to urge him into changing into his sleep clothes and moving to his own bed again. Or if she should just let Hank handle it. This was his child – and he did things his way. He'd decided what was best and what was working. And he was the one who was there. He was one of the ones who'd raised him.

"It seems like a lot of kids at school …," Ethan floated quietly "… like they don't like Christmas. Like anymore. Beyond like … wanting stuff. But not like traditions or like tonight. Like stuff with their family and their parents. Like they think it's all just super lame. And I get … that parents can be kind of … like embarrassing. But … I also think Dad is … not lame. Like he knows lots of stuff and talks in ways that make sense. And listens and does stuff with me. Like wants to do stuff with me. And just … he's … there. You know? On like … days like today and like … in June and the summer. So I don't get … it. Everyone thinking tonight and Christmas and family and their parents and siblings and tradition and stuff is … dumb."

Erin nodded and rubbed at his bicep. "I think a lot of people … it's not until something bad in their family happens that they realize how important family and traditions are. And then a lot of people, when they're teenagers – they're just dumb. And mean. To everyone around them. Their parents and siblings and family included. And some – maybe a lot – of them will outgrow it and it won't seem so dumb or embarrassing anymore. And others never really outgrow it."

"I don't think I'm going to go through that like dumb teenager phase," Ethan said.

Erin smiled. "Maybe not that part of it," she allowed. "But I'm sure you'll make us endure other parts of it." She really, really hoped he did – that he was around and well enough to make them endure all the joys and misery of having a teenager in their lives.

He gave her a small glare and she again touched his cheek to try to get it to calm.

"Tell me a story about Mom," he finally said. "A Christmas story about Mom."

"How about a Christmas story about you?" she offered after thinking about it for a second.

"You have a Christmas story about me?"

She smiled at him.

"Is it dumb and embarrassing?" he asked.

"Likely," she said. "So we were decorating the tree. I think … you were maybe six. And you know Mom and Dad's fancy Christmas balls?"

"The ones from the gas station?" Ethan asked.

"Those would be the ones," she smiled. "I might've been the first Christmas that Mom and Dad felt you were old enough to be putting them on yourself, I think. Usually we'd help you. With getting the hooks on and making sure you got it hooked over the branch, okay."

"Yea," Ethan mumbled. "We wouldn't want to break those ones."

She smiled some more. "Tradition," she said and gave his shoulder a little shake. "What would our Christmas tree look like if we didn't have those ornaments on it?"

"Likely weird and naked," Ethan allowed.

"Exactly," she said. "So you were struggling a bit with it. Since it was your first time. And then you just look at your dad, completely serious and go, 'Daddy, these hookers kept busting up my balls bad.'"

Ethan draped his head on the mattress and tried to roll his eyes. But it only made Erin smile more and to barely hold in the little laugh that wanted to come out so badly.

"And then your mom looks at Daddy and goes, 'That's your son talking.'"

Ethan shook his head. "How come no one told me that one before?"

Erin shrugged. "Likely because no one wanted to explain to you why we were all laughing. And you know Mommy and Daddy wouldn't want you talking like that."

"Swear jar," Ethan muttered.

"Exactly," Erin acknowledged.

"So I was always dumb," he said.

"No," Erin said and rocked his shoulder a bit again. "You were always funny. You've always had a way of making everyone in this family smile."

He allowed her a little smile at that. "You make me smile too."

She allowed her own smile at that and rocked his shoulder in quiet thanks again.

"You remind me of Mom," he said quietly. "Maybe 'cuz you tell me 'bout her. Or 'cuz you're like mom bossy."

"Thanks, Ethan," she muttered. But she thought that wasn't likely a bad trait to have developed at this point anyway.

"So maybe that's more like Dad. 'Cuz sometimes you sound a lot like him. But I think you look more like Mom. That you're more like Mom. What I remember about her. Or like what … what … how you've helped me remember her."

And that earned a little smile too. "That's a pretty big compliment, Ethan."

He only shrugged.

But it was. She could only hope that … she could figure out how to be a mother like Camille was. To be giving and forgiving and sacrificing and hard-working and kind. To hug and provide for and love her kids – through good and bad.

And Erin was starting to slowly realize that … for all the times she'd been an obnoxious seventeen and eighteen and nineteen year old – maybe even right up to her twenty-first birthday and her acceptance into the Academy and her finding her own apartment and roommates – she'd sometimes felt like a babysitter. That maybe she hadn't been as good of big sister as she wished she naturally was – but instead became the big sister that Camille had moulded her into with Ethan. The responsibilities in the family that came with it that title and privilege. And that maybe it'd really been those fourteen years ago that Camille had given her a crash course on how to be a mother. How to care for a baby and a toddler. To relate to them and play with them and to feed and clothe and sacrifice for them. And to enjoy them. To find happiness in those little moments and to create that bond.

And maybe Camille had once again known or sensed something that they rest of them hadn't. Or she was just covering her bases.

But whatever it was – Erin knew now it was a gift. And it was time she was glad she had. Because she had been taught. She had learned. She just needed to tap into it and keep remembering. Keep pulling bits and pieces of Camille out of her head and put them into practice.

And somehow knowing that was all somewhere inside her put things into perspective again – some more. And again, it made her feel like eventually – it'd be okay. That she'd – they'd – figure it out. And it would work out. The way it needed to.

Because Camille had taught her that too. Sacrifice to get it to work – and it would. Eventually.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Your readership, comments, feedback and reviews are appreciated.**

 **Also — three chapters were posted within 24 hours of each other (Chapter 21-23 — The Thing About Elephants, The Deal, and Mean Girl). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them. They are from Jay's POV. One is a Jay/Erin scene and the other is a Jay/Hank. And the last is an Erin POV featuring Ethan and Jay.**


	25. The Right Time

**Title: Onward, Thankfully**

 **Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 *************PLEASE NOTE: A chapter was posted earlier today (Chapter 24 — Memories Past). Also — three chapters were posted within 24 hours of each other before that (Chapter 21-23 — The Thing About Elephants, The Deal, and Mean Girl). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them. ***************

Erin came down the steps, looking into the front room to spot that Jay was there alone. But she had figured as much. She could smell what Hank was up to. She knew he'd be in the kitchen.

Jay glanced her way. He was pulling a bit as his bottom lip – or he had been as he stared at the TV screen watching game highlights. His tie was pulled loose and he looked nearly as tired as Ethan. Maybe nearly as tired as her. But she didn't think Jay had laid down that day while she was at the hospital. And, though, she had when she'd gotten back to Hank's with the two of them, she hadn't slept. So she knew at least her and Jay were getting close to forty-eight hours without having actually slept in a bed. Though, at least both of them had drowsed a bit in the car.

He watched her come down the stairs, but she shifted her eyes to the television too, watching the highlights. Giving herself a few stray moments to come down – from everything. The day – or days. The week. The talk with Ethan. That night. The hospital. The concert. St. Ignatius. The future looming in front of them – of the in a few days and in a week and in a handful of months variety.

"Who won?" she asked Jay.

His eyes had set back on the screen too. "Dallas," he allowed.

"Not Chicago's season," she said.

"Nope," he conceded. "Won't be a Cup run this year."

"Mmm …," she acknowledged.

"He sleeping?" he asked.

She nodded and held her arms around her, still measuring, still thinking.

"So not doing A Christmas Story tonight?"

She allowed a small laugh. Another tradition. A new one. Or a developing one. One that Ethan was trying to establish for two years back-to-back. Jay's favorite Christmas movie. Likely one of her least favorites. And Hank could hardly tolerate it – so much so that he'd pretty much banned it while the boys were growing up. She wasn't entirely sure what met his disapproval. Or maybe it was that it met Camille's disapproval.

But it'd been shelved for other more wholesome Christmas classics. Until last year when Ethan decided he needed to watch Jay's favorite. And now this year, with Hank allowing his son a bit more of a leash and not being quite as strict about his media consumption and TV time and seemingly a whole lot of things.

So Ethan had somehow managed to talk his dad into getting to watch A Christmas Story when they got home. Though, she suspected that might've been part of the reason Hank gave Ethan the CBD oil. It'd pretty much stopped that plan in it its tracks. It'd knocked her little brother out before she even managed to get him changed or moved to his own bed. Now it'd be up to Hank to decide to do with that as he may when he headed up for the night.

"You thinking you're about ready to head out?" Jay asked.

She rotated her eyes to him and gave him a thin smile. "In a bit," she said. "I'm going to check on him …," she nodded in that direction. "I think maybe …"

And she left it there. She watched Jay's reaction and his slight movement. The underlying apprehension and discomfort. And she felt it too. She was second guessing if and when she should tell him and bring the family into this. If she should do it before Christmas or wait until after Christmas or wait until into the new year or just before the next time she saw Hank – when she suspected, if what the doctor told them was true, that she likely wouldn't be able to hide it much anymore. But she was unsure how he'd react – to the news and to the timing. And it scared her. What Hank might say and what he wouldn't say – but his face would say all the same. What he might think or feel – or want to say – about her and Jay's relationship, or their abilities as parents or where she was living and where he was living and career and playing house. She was scared to take this 'secret' outside of her and Jay's world. About what that would mean – who all she'd have to tell then as news spread – if something went wrong. And then that was the news they were sharing and the updates they were giving. And the impact that would have on her life and Jay's life and their relationship and her relationship with her family as a whole. How it'd impact all of them – with a good or bad outcome.

But she wanted to start dealing with it. To not keep secrets. Or to keep living like everything was eventually going to turn into a bad news story. She wanted to start spreading that safety net more and getting more people on her side – their side. To get ready for this life change and new future. For the new look of their family.

And she thought Jay did too – even though he had his reservations about all of it. Even though he was scared and hesitant and unsure too – and he hated sharing that type of vulnerability with anyone, even her. But he nodded too. Eventually.

So she nodded again. She gathered herself and walked passed him. She let her hand graze over his knees and grab his hand. She kept a hold of it to full length until they dropped each other's grip and she went into the kitchen, leaning in the entrance for a moment to watch Hank at the stove. And waited for him to give her a glance too – to see that his face was relaxed and so was his tie.

"It smells like your mom's place at Christmas in here," she told him, and it earned a faint smile on his face. Though, he smacked at her and turned back to stirring his simmering pot. Mulled spices. She could tell, though, he hadn't put in wine – his mother would've. And maybe that showed he'd already noticed her abstinence on alcohol. Or he was just keeping Jay away from any extra alcohol after their little … thing last week. The forced furlough that Erin was reaping the benefits from – that she hoped Jay was too. That he felt he was – despite the reasoning behind it.

Hank gestured over at the table. He had pastries on a plate. She could tell they were German too. Close enough to some of the Austrian treats his mom would have out at the holidays for her to know what some of them were. To know that she wouldn't mind sampling one or two … or more.

"Had E over at Christkindlmarket the other night," he said. Like that was explanation enough. And maybe it was. Another tradition. One that Erin wasn't entirely sure Hank did for Ethan or for himself. Or maybe for memories of his parents and growing-up. Smells and tastes from his own childhood. Bits and pieces of himself he wanted to share with his family in the way he could or knew how.

Erin stood at the table and looked at the pastries. She took a stray piece of the cut flakey pastries and put it in her mouth to let it melt – buttery, nutty and sweet.

"Ethan's asleep," she said. "In his clothes and in your bed."

"Mmm …," Hank grunted. She knew he knew that.

"So no Christmas Story tonight. I'll come over and sit with him tomorrow, though, if you aren't planning on sending him to school. He says he wants to watch both Home Alones. Because one is a 'good Chicago' movie and the other one's appropriate since I'm 'lost in New York.'"

He grunted again but stayed fixed on his pot. Still even in the sound, she could feel his amusement at Ethan's quip. She could feel the small smile. "See how he's doing in the morning. Not like they do much on the last day."

Erin nodded and picked at another little piece. Hank spotted it and cast her a look and a smack. It was a clear message that they were supposed to be for everyone – and just that he didn't like people hovering over the table stuffing their faces. You sat down as a family to eat. If you were in the house together, you were eating together. Or at least sitting either each other.

Erin stopped picking at the treats. She could wait until they were all sitting together. She could use them as a distraction to try to … avoid looking at him if his face was saying something she didn't want to hear. But his face right then wasn't.

"You look like you're in a good mood," she said.

He just grunted. "Give it to the Catholics, one thing they do get right is Christmas," he rasped.

She allowed a small smile. Proud Dad. Hank got like that. With all of them. He might not ever right-out congratulate them but there'd been times she could pinpoint in his body language and his demeanor and the tone of the words he used – that he was proud of them. And their achievements.

"He did good tonight," she allowed.

It was just another grunt. His acknowledgement that was so dismissive. And wasn't all at the same time.

Erin stared at his back for a long moment. She kept working at gathering herself. At giving herself some sort of internal pep talk. Of trying to find the words she wanted. When she sort of wished she had the sounds to say it without saying it too.

So she went over and stood next to him at the stove top. He barely slowed his stirring but he gave her a glance and she leaned and placed at firm kiss against the side of his head – above his ear, in his hair. In the place that he so occasionally pressed his lips when he felt like she needed it. When they had quiet moments where she was just his daughter and he was just her dad – and she didn't need to overthink it or try to define it for herself or him or anyone else. It just was what it was. Another Hank line.

His stirring slowed, though, and he looked at her. Really looked at her. She could feel concern that radiated off him – it hitting her like a wave.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

She allowed a slight nod. "Yea," she allowed. "I'm just … really happy to be home, Hank. With you guys."

A faint smile spread on his thin lips again and he stopped his whisking. He turned to her and embraced her. "We're happy to have you."

His arms were up and around her back and gripping at her shoulder. A tight hold but giving her space – privacy and to pull away when she wanted to, to adjust the hug to be what she wanted or was comfortable with in that moment. But she was comfortable. It felt nice to feel his warms around her and his shoulders against hers. It felt warm and strong. And she didn't worry about if she let him hold her too tight he might notice or suspect that she was carrying additional roundness at her belly. Instead, she let her chin rest over his shoulder for it and scrapping against his cheek. And she smiled as he released her and looked at her.

She shook her head at it a bit and patted at his cheek, as he did the same, gazing at her. There was pride in that look too that ached. That she needed. And it was a way – that she had only ever really had Hank look at her in quite that way. A way that she was just starting to understand was the way a father looked at his child. At his daughter.

A way she'd seen in Jay's transfixed eyes on the ultrasound screen. And in him laying against her as he stared at the bump they'd made together – while he touched it and felt it and looked at it – with those eyes and with this quiet pride. Pride not in themselves but in the life they'd created – life that he was already feeling for, feeling pride and awe and amazement for, when they weren't even there yet. When all they'd seen them do so far was grow and kick and move and twitch on a medical monitor. Their hearts racing in time.

And that made her smile a bit more too. Though, she ran her thumb down his cheek and dropped her hand away. Though Hank's stayed up at her – around her ear and cupping the back of her head through her hair – for a moment longer.

"Ethan told me that your face doesn't feel right tonight," she said. "Since you shaved for the big night."

"Mmm …," Hank grunted and went back to his whisking.

"He's real tactile anymore," he allowed. "How he learns. Helps him see things and understand them better."

Erin nodded. "He asked if you ever had as much of a beard as Jay," she smiled.

"Mmm …," Hank grunted again and shook his head.

"You did," she said. "In Gangs. If you were out on surveillance for a few days."

That got another grunt and he looked at her. Wagged the whisk at her really. "You tell him as soon as I got in the door, I had standing orders from the wife about getting my ass upstairs and getting it off myself face."

Erin grinned a bit at that and crossed her arms to look down. "I told him you looked handsome in a grisly sort of way."

Hank grunted and shook his head. "Looked and smelled like I'd been sitting in a car staring at surveillance monitors drinking stale coffee and cold pizza for way too long."

Erin shrugged. "I've smelled worse."

He cast her a look. There was small amusement in it – the double entendre. That she'd smelled worse – and that she'd literally been what had smelled worse. But there was a small pain in the look too. The one that said he didn't like he spending too much time in that past either. That it might be who she was and where she came from – but it wasn't what her life was anymore.

"You look real good tonight," he nodded at her and gestured absently at the outfit she had on.

It was an awkward statement. Hank rarely commented on her clothes – unless he didn't like them. Then she got a commentary. As a teen and even as an adult. But she just allowed a smile at his effort.

"Ethan kept telling me I looked nice too," she said. "But he's pretty stoned."

"Mmm …," he grunted. "Not that stoned."

"He told me I reminded him of his mom," she said quietly and got another look from Hank. The puckered lips as he processed. "I don't know … he fumbled with his words. He's out of it. But that … I guess … I'm mom-like to him. Sometimes."

Hank looked at her. "You're more than his big sister, Erin," he allowed. "We all know that. You're the woman in his life. His example."

She allowed a shy smile and nodded but found herself gazing at the ground. Then she found his hand on her shoulder. And she looked at it.

"Go sit down," he rasped evenly. "Bring this out in a minute. Warm you up, help you sleep. Can crash here tonight if you don't feel like making the drive."

Olive and Henry had apparently opted to spend the days she was home back at the condo – on the assumption that Hank wouldn't need as much help and Ethan wouldn't need as much supervision with her home. Or maybe they just needed some space and time apart. And to live their own lives. Erin could understand. Space helped. But family was family. You only got so much time with them – no matter how you cut it.

"That whole mile?" she put back to him.

But he only grunted and turned back to twist off the burner. "You and Jay both look like you're about ready to nod off now."

She allowed a small smile at that and examined the ground for a moment more before moving out of the kitchen and back into the front room. Jay's eyes came up to find hers immediately. The question was there – and she nodded. She was going to do it. Even though Jay had speculated that maybe it'd be better if she told him alone. But then they'd both quickly concluded they were in this together and needed to show a united front from the get. That Hank needed to see that and believe it. That that was best for both of them and for the family they were making and for Hank's perspective of their relationship and Jay – both on the job and at home.

It was a good night to do it. It was time. Hank was in a good mood and a good headspace. Ethan was asleep. And it felt … it felt warm and comfortable and right. So maybe it would work out alright.

She went to the hallway and pulled an envelop from her coat pocket and came back into the front room just as Hank came in with the cups and the plate. She let him set it down and grunt and gesture as Jay – who looked a little shell shocked, and she was sure Hank picked up on that too. But he didn't say anything. He just set the mug next to her in the armchair and she held out the envelope at him.

He gave her a look but took it as he went to sit in his spot on the couch. "More paperwork from the lawyers?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Just … something I wanted to give to you now. While we have time."

And that was likely the most accurate. While they had time. Time that night. And time while her and Jay where there in front of him together. And time that trip. And time in their family. And time with Ethan. And time while Hank was still just middle-aged and vibrant and healthy.

Right now – they had the time. She wanted to take full advantage of that time. To enjoy it while it was still there.

So she watched Hank's face – she watched his eyes – as they fixed on her and then fixed on the flap of the envelope. And he opened it.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **A chapter was posted earlier today (Chapter 24 — Memories Past). Also — three chapters were posted within 24 hours of each other before that (Chapter 21-23 — The Thing About Elephants, The Deal, and Mean Girl). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them.**

 **Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	26. Lucky Man

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

 ********PLEASE NOTE: Two chapters got posted yesterday — Chapter 24 and 25 (Memories Past and The Right Time). They were posted less than 24 hours apart so didn't bump. Please check to make sure you saw them both. Also — three chapters were posted within 24 hours of each other before that (Chapter 21-23 — The Thing About Elephants, The Deal, and Mean Girl). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them. **************

Hank only needed to lift the flap on the envelope before he knew that he knew already what was inside. Maybe he'd actually known – or at least suspected – for a whole lot longer than that that he was going to be handed some envelope like this. That they'd be sitting down and having this conversation.

At least he'd thought he'd seen it coming. Done enough of pregnancy false-starts and announcements – the miscarriages and the two that managed to finally bring him and Cami their boys – that he thought he had an idea of some of the signs. That he'd been a husband and father and cop long enough that he had enough sense to pick up on them.

But maybe he'd been a husband and father long enough too that he had the good sense to not jump to any conclusion and to say anything out of place or to press for too much information. Sensitive topic. More sensitive when Erin had had a miscarriage of her own. And he knew that after that was part of their process between him and Camille, there got to be a point that they didn't tell anyone for a good long time. Before they were real sure that it was likely going to stick – and even then they'd had the one, their little girl, that hadn't.

Knew that even with Ethan, Cami hadn't jumped to tell him – her husband. She'd known a while. Thought it was something else at first – perimenopause upping its game to menopause. But guess she'd sensed that maybe that wasn't what was going on. Or had some hope – or maybe hopeful denial that she wasn't that much of an old lady yet. So she'd done the home tests. Gone into the doc on her own for more tests and talk. All before she brought him into the loop.

Hank got where she was coming from. There was a whole lot going on in their life and family back then. A lot of Bunny bullshit that turned into a whole lot of Erin bullshit from the hole Bunny had gone shoving them all into. And Erin had taken a real big fall. One that had taken a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears from the lot of them to get her out of and steady up on stable ground. Harder with work – still in Gangs, still on the street too much, still not keeping the kind of hours that Cami approved of some days despite putting up with him and his schedule and his career all those years.

Then you go adding in the miscarriages and their age and the kids' age gaps and history and work status and marriage and relationship status – he didn't entirely blame Camille for wanting to do her thing and get herself sorted first. To know it was real and prepare herself for how to approach it. In essence, prepare herself for how she'd get the whole damn family to approach it. Still debatable about who really was the head of household before. He liked to think they shared that pretty equally. Just like they did a lot of things. That was pretty much their agreement. How they managed to make it work. What he needed to make it work. But maybe those couple weeks hadn't been that equal. Didn't share the load. Her body but their child she was carrying. And Hank still wished she'd let him be there for her – for the whole family and for their surprise little boy – a lot more than she had in those first couple weeks where she'd gone from thinking menopause was in the offing to realizing that they had hit a home run in a whole different ballgame. At fucking forty-two. He still didn't like knowing she'd gone through that whole thought process and emotions and doctors appointments alone. A lot of things he pinpointed now looking back on their marriage and raising their family that he'd come to realize and accept that Camille had done alone.

And maybe that was another part of the reason he hadn't let himself fully think that maybe he'd be getting to have this conversation with Erin – because right now she was pretty alone. Hard to think about her being in New York with this going on alone. Hard to think about if she wasn't planning on coming back – or couldn't get a gig lined up, or wasn't ready, willing or able to deal with being a stay-at-home mom for a while – that she'd be dealing with a baby alone. Hard to think of that grandkid only having his mom around too. Because Hank knew too fucking well that one is not enough for any kid. Or any adult. Needed a village to raise them. Needed a family to love them. Needed more than just mom around. Needed dad and siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. Needed and deserved it. To be part of a family and a community.

But he'd seen. Thought he'd been seeing it and sensing it for a while. So he wanted to pull out the black-and-white slips of thick paper – that he didn't have to take out to already know they were ultrasound photos. He wanted look them over and see if he could pinpoint how far along his girl was. He figured she must be at least the twelve week mark – to be telling him after having had a miscarriage. That was pretty standard. Get through the first trimester.

But he was also doing his own mental math. Thinking back on when he first suspected. Or maybe more when he'd noted some extra changes in her. When she was home for J's birthday. Columbus Day weekend. There'd just been something about her then. Looked different. Maybe holding herself a bit different. Healthier. She looked healthier. Her skin. Her hair. Was mostly the hair. Not as dead or dry looking. He'd noted it but hadn't thought too much. Had thought that New York was doing her some good. Giving her some of the space and time and stability she needed to get her head on straight and to get back on her feet. To remaster her career. And getting her to take better care of herself in the process. Looking a whole lot better than she had in the spring and the summer. Not as gaunt or pale. Not mixed up in whatever that U.C. assignment had gotten her mixed up in.

Didn't see much of her between then and Thanksgiving. Just on the Skype. Had thought a bit more about it being a possibility when she was home then. It'd been more her face that time. The start of that 'glow'. Supposed though she'd made him stress a bit about what she might be getting into. But that'd been clues too. His girl turning down coffee? And not having a glass of wine at dinner or a drink with him when he'd gotten out the good stuff a couple times that weekend. Seeming a little too nauseated at meal time. And pretty sure she'd been up hurling in the bathroom at one point. Hard to mask that sound even though him and E had still been outside screwing with the Christmas lights.

Had been a mixed thought process. Wondering – sensing – if she was pregnant. And also calculating what other possibilities her taking a break from alcohol meant. Weighing the good and bad of her cutting back.

Had calmed some when she'd come home for E's Breakfast With Sue, though. Could see at that point she was putting on some extra weight. Not that he was going to tell her that. Could also tell at the breakfast that his girl was eating more than she would even though the kid did have a big of a hollow leg growing up. Either the job and the distance was creating a whole lot of stress eating or she was eating for more than one. And he'd hoped it was the latter. Because the time-out off in the corner was supposed to be good for her – not a hole.

So she had to be a bit along. He figured. He wanted to ask and wanted to see. But he still took a minute to open that envelope.

Because he couldn't fuck up his reaction to this and how he looked at her or talked to her about it.

He couldn't. Even though he could see … fucking challenges ahead. Big ones. Big ones that could become holes for her. If she stayed in New York. If her and Jay weren't on the same page and Hank was getting a different read on where Jay was with pretty much everything day to day. But it was pretty consistent in the realm of the guy was struggling off in his own dimension. That now it was his head that wasn't on straight.

Only maybe it was. Or trying too. Because maybe that'd been some of the bigger tells. Jay had shown a fell cracks – more than a few – on the Christmas shopping outing. Few too many comments about his Daddy issues. Staring at the price tags hanging under the strollers and playpens a little too long as they'd gone by. And coming to an all-out halt in the baby clothes section. Had tried to give Jay some benefit of the doubt. Knew the other baby – they'd be marking its first birthday right about now if Erin had made it to term. Knew that he still knew some of the due dates that him and Cami hadn't ever gotten to. The ones that still kind of creep up on him and hit him in the face at the strangest times and in the strangest ways when they got around that time of year or he saw the date on the calendar – holding some different event or responsibility attached to some different person now. You get farther way from it all but you never quite moved on and forgot about it. Not when it's a piece of you that you never really got to know or hold – that slipped away before you could. A little piece of yourself dying when that unborn baby died too.

So Hank could understand that Jay had a whole list of reasons to look like he'd gotten slapped in the face that time of year. But there'd been more to that look on his face. Hank knew it. He'd had it at different times in his life too. And not on days where he got a whiff of the date showing on the calendar. That slacked face look of the future staring right at you and you not being quite sure how you'd handle it or how even to get your prepped for it. That was a whole different look. But maybe Jay needed that good slap. At home, at work, in his relationship, with his family. To start getting his head spinning around back to be where it needed to be.

Proper police planning. Though, he wasn't sure how much good planning went on here. Not any he suspected.

And he couldn't say much about that. He wouldn't say much about that. He'd hold his tongue on that. Because he and Cami had made their mistakes and oversights. And so had Justin and Olive. Sometimes that was just how life happened. New life happened.

So it wasn't that. It was just …

Erin in New York. Jay bordering on a fucking headcase that he was having to force into getting some fucking help because the guy just wasn't doing it on his own.

And then there was E. Hank didn't know what to say or think about all of that. He hadn't let himself process what he was even going to think about any of that if Erin came to him with conversation. Didn't want to get ahead of himself and waste time and energy and mind power on something that might not come to be. But it just made it fucking complicated.

Too complicated. How E would take it. The sharing of time and space. And just the fucking reality that whether Erin came back to Chicago or stayed in New York, he just wouldn't have as much time to play grandpa to the kid. He wouldn't have as much money-leeway to help out or to get her out of any situation she found herself in with the kid. Because all the freed up moments he had – E got about 90 percent. H was getting about the other 10. And forget freed up cash. Hank was having to free up cash to make sure that all ends were being met and that all options were being explored with E – no matter what the fucking insurance company said. If E was willing to try something and there was some doctor or medical professional willing to offer up the service or treatment – it was getting tried. And that … didn't run cheap even when you had a union and insurance attached to your family.

And it was just work too. Erin stayed in New York and he wasn't sure how much he'd get out there to see her and his grandkid. It was hard enough as it was to get home to give his kid dinner and get him into bed. Nights and weekends off? That was becoming a scarcity. And he was feeling it. His boy was feeling it too. And Hank felt even what that was doing with his visits with H. Amazing what going a week or two without seeing him did at that age. Grow and change and learn so much. Same goes for that first year. And he'd likely miss most of it. And if Halstead wasn't planning on bailing out – wouldn't matter if Erin came back to Chicago, if he was sticking it out in Intelligence while IA and the Ivory Tower and Woods were riding their asses and internal audits and police reform stayed as buzz words for the press – he'd be missing a whole lot of days and nights of a growing baby too.

If that's even the arrangement Jay and Erin had. There was that too. He didn't know what the fuck these two were up to. And he'd stopped trying to talk to either of them about it. Though, maybe after he looked inside this envelope, he would now. He'd figure out something to say and how to say it to them. If they didn't give him some sort of explanation of just what kind of family unit it was that his grandkid was going to be growing up in.

Hank liked to think that him and Cami had in the very least given them he kids a fucking example of what a marriage and a family was supposed to look like. For better or worse. Through some good and real bad. They hadn't preached bullshit at the kids about sex or their sexuality. But he'd really hoped that he wouldn't watch all his kids go through shut-gun weddings. That his boys would make an honest woman out of a girl. And that Erin would be one – that she'd have someone who respected and valued her enough they'd see that through too. But wasn't exactly how it was working out.

It'd worked out okay for J and Olive. More or less. They weren't without their problems. And Hank wasn't sure the two of them would've lasted if J had lived. But, he supposed, it'd work out okay.

It was just that he always hoped for his kids that it'd be more than just okay. That he'd wish for them that they'd find something like him and Cami had had. That they'd get to experience family the way he'd felt in. In those good years – or good moments. But maybe that was too much to ask for or hope for.

And maybe he could only do so much in helping his kids get there. He couldn't pick a mate for them. Couldn't make sure they found someone as special as Camille had been to him. Couldn't set up their lives and experiences so they had the same kind of intimacy that had developed between him and his wife. And wasn't even sure he'd want to. It took a whole lot of pain to get them to share that. But supposed the pain had been shared too. Pain for pleasure.

But hadn't heard anything out of Erin or Jay for ages about where the two of them were at. Hadn't gotten a good read on it either, beyond the fact they were trying while she was home. And that Jay went between running away to New York City and using work as a real good excuse to avoid a trip out to see Erin. Sure hadn't heard anything about this engagement of theirs or weddings. Did see full well that Erin still had the ring on her finger – every time he saw her now, in person and on the screen. But knew better than to ask what was going on or what the hell was going through her head.

Though, there'd been some times lately he'd wanted to tell Jay to just fucking let her go. Because she was in her thirties now. And if she wanted a spouse and a kid or two – she needed to get on that. He shouldn't be treating her like some sort of anchor while he tried to right her ship. That she deserved better than that. Needed better than that. But hadn't brought himself to say it. Kept biting at the inside of his cheek real hard – because knew that Jay still needed Erin and knew that Erin needed him. And even though those kinds of relationships can be toxic, that symbiotic connection can be a bit of a life force too. And maybe when you cut it a different way – that's sort of what relationships were. Mutually beneficial. When they weren't mutually beneficial anymore maybe that's when it stopped working.

And Hank just accepted he didn't have a whole lot of right to comment. Not matter how much he fucking wanted to. Because he really only ever had to know so much about relationships. And only really had to learn how to operate in one long-term with one person. And his perspective was skewed. Didn't know much about dating and new relationships in your thirties. Hadn't had to do that. Just had to keep working at the marriage he had at that point – working and working. And quoting off tales of working shit out with your high school sweetheart while you were both finding footing as adults in your twenties – not sure how much it applied here. How much it'd be relatable. Though, young adults grew up a little differently anymore. But his girl and Jay had been through a lot in their teens and twenties. Kids but not kids. Couldn't preach too much without being called an uneducated hypocrite. Besides, knew that there'd been more of a bit of a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship that kept him and Cami going too. What managed to keep them connected and together through some of the bad.

It was just timing. Fucking timing. And life. Just life getting in the way of him feeling … whatever it was that he should be feeling. Maybe what he wanted to feel.

But this was life. Life was what happened while you had other plans. It wasn't even other plans. It was just what happened while you were dealing with all the rest of the shit life threw at you. That was just life. Pushing around the shit piles and learning to start realizing that some of them smelled pretty rosy. Adjusting your mindset.

And that was the thing. Timing. And life.

When would be a good time for this for Erin? Had been waiting a lot of years for her to decide if a relationship and kids was something she wanted? Or if she was putting career ahead of that? If she was willing to make the changes and sacrifices in career to have a family of her own?

Would it be better timing if she figured out her career more? Or if she figured out where she was going to set down her roots more? Or if her and Jay had a relationship more defined – or defined in a way that Hank was more comfortable with?

Not necessarily. And it was really none of his fucking business. Those were her choices and her life. And maybe – no maybe about it, actually – a situation like this forced you to make some of those changes and decisions and to put down those roots and just figure it out and make it work.

And – as for her life. This was life. This was the kind of situation that was the fundamental reason he and Cami took her in. It was to get her to the point in her life where she was having these kinds of options and making these kinds of choices. For good reason – not because she was some teenaged kid who'd been forced to do things that landed her in a bad situation. This wasn't a baby having a baby.

This was the girl he and Camille had raised – had guided through her teens and twenties with a decent head on her shoulders. She'd made her missteps but that was part of growing up and being a young adult. Just fucking part of being human. Age didn't matter. But now their girl was an adult woman. She had a man who cared about her even if he was a little damaged. Least he was damaged for legitimate reasons – had a good job and a good head and a decent enough heart and moral compass. Erin had a job they could be proud of. That she should be proud of too.

She'd done good.

And if Erin had made choices and decisions that had lead her to this – deciding that this was the route she was going to take and get ready for – Hank couldn't say much. He had to be proud of her and happy for her and be there for her.

And that's what he needed to figure out how to show on his face and in his words. In how he reacted and didn't react. In what he asked and didn't ask. What he said.

Because he didn't want to fuck this up.

He knew he had with Olive. He'd been a bit of an ass. He'd known it as he was saying it and he'd known it more as he walked away from the girl. He could feel Camille kicking his ass about it from high above. Hear her using those words in a lecture. Telling him he was an ass and/or he had his head up his ass. That that wasn't how he talked to or treated the mother of their grandchild – no matter what poor choices and timing and thinking with the wrong fucking head of his that their son had done. That was just Justin. Always thinking with his heart, his dick or that chip of his on his shoulder. Not the fucking brain he'd gotten. And he'd gotten a good one. And that wasn't necessarily Olive's fault. And it sure wasn't H's fault.

So he'd fixed it. He tried. And he was still trying. And that was Olive. Not his girl.

He knew he hadn't given J the best reaction either when his son had told him that he was going to have a son. But what do you say. You bite your tongue. Because you know full well that karma's a bitch. And the kid was about to get his eyes opened up to some of the shit he'd put himself and his mother through. So all he'd managed was an 'oh, wow'. That's it. Maybe it summed it up.

Erin, though, deserved and needed something a little different than that. Because his relationship was different with her. Because she was a girl – his girl. Because still needed and wanted her in his life and the life of the family. And wanted to get to do right by this grandchild – who's first pictures he had in his hand.

So he readied himself and he slide out the shots. He looked at them. This wasn't some blurry black-and-white photocopied blob where you could hardly even make out a shadow of a dark circular shape. This was a baby.

Absolutely could see the baby there. Could see its head and its arms and its legs and his hands and fingers and toes. Shaped and formed. There was no doubt about it. Could even look at it just right – he'd seen enough ultrasound photos over the years – to tell that the kid in there was sucking on its little nub of a thumb.

And he smiled a bit. Actually, he probably smiled more than he thought he would. He felt it. Just hit him a weird way. Seeing the kid there like that. Another grandkid. His grandkid. His girl sitting there across from him. And this new little person growing there inside her. Inside the girl he'd gotten off the streets. The girl him and Cami raised. Had given a life. Had gotten his far. And who'd contributed so fucking much to their family life. Now her she was giving them more. Adding this little guy to their family.

He let out a small chuff. And rested his hand on his temple. His fingers on his forehead as he stared at it. The daughter him and Cami had waited for so long getting ready to bring them home a grandchild.

Hank shook his head a bit and leaned forward to stare at the photo a bit more. To hide the bit of glass that hit him in the eyes too. Happy tears and sad ones. Because Cami should've been here to see this. To see what they'd accomplished. What Erin had. What they'd scarificed for. This new fucking bit of it they were getting out of it all these years later. And all these years to come that Camille should've been there. To get to watch this one grow up too – just like she should've gotten to watch E and H grow. Because she should've been there to answer Erin's questions and to do the baby store and supplies trips. To organize the fucking baby shower that Erin would roll her eyes about but would show up at since Cami put in the effort. And she'd just spoil their girl and that baby rotten.

But she wasn't there.

Cami wasn't. But Erin was. This little guy was.

He glanced up at her and swiped his finger across his eye briefly – even though he knew she'd caught it. She could see it. But he just shrugged and smiled again.

"He's sucking his thumb," Hank put to her.

She smiled at that and raised that damn eyebrow. "He?"

"Yea … well," he said and tapped at the photo. Again, he'd seen enough of them over the years, pretty sure that the little nub he was seeing between his grandkid's two legs wasn't some deformed third leg that hadn't developed.

"They don't tell you the sex until at least twenty weeks, Hank," Erin said.

He just grunted at that and gazed at the picture again. Took in the medical jargon along the margins that time. Measurements and dates. Could see that the U/S had been done just a few days before. And gave Jay a glance at that and offered a thin smile and a little smack. Maybe the force furlough had worked out pretty good. Was glad to know that the guy was there for that. Hoped he'd – they'd – work out a way so he was there for other parts of it too.

Hank hoped he might figure out some way to have an actual talk about all this with the guy. To not just give him a hand shake to try to calm how fucking much he looked like a caged animal over there. Like he was going to jump him for knocking up his daughter.

But he wasn't feeling that way about it at all. Wasn't like he had an delusions about what kind of rough road the two of them had ahead of them. But some of Hank's anxiety in the anticipation about if this kind of conversation was pending had just dimmed a bit for the moment with that photo in his hand.

Hard to get too angry or worked up in much negative energy when you're looking at your grandson. Funny how your kids and grandkids – just looking at them, and getting to hold them or hug them – could re-center you and ground you so quick. Just fucking shift perspectives and reality. Make it a bit easier – even though being a parent was a hard fucking road.

Maybe he could hope that Jay'd get to experience that too. That it'd work the same for him despite his upbringing and Daddy Issues. Maybe had to hope that the guy had already felt that – seeing this baby at the ultrasound. Having these photos to hold. Maybe it'd been part of why Jay was showing up a little bit more on the home front lately – even if he wasn't on the work front in quite the way Hank had come to expect out of him. But at least he seemed to want to be there – and be with – Erin. That was a good start. Being with her meant he was with this growing boy.

"How far along?" he put to Erin.

"Fourteen weeks," Erin said.

Hank grunted and did his calculations in his head a bit. He stopped some. The shooting. He gave Jay another glance. But wasn't something he'd comment on. Not now or ever. Was sure that Jay already had done his own mental math and figured out that one.

Sometimes you had to look at these things in different ways. Something bad had happened to Halstead that week – thereabouts. But something good was coming from it. And something important had happened in his – their – relationship too. He'd gone to Erin. And she'd been there for him. That said something about the relationship too. And maybe added a bit of leeway in Hank's ponderings on its fucking status too. Clearly had a status – and a fucking status at that. But more importantly – there was a connection and an intimacy there. The kind you only got by having to go through some baptism under fire. And sometimes that meant you ended up grabbing at and holding onto and carrying out with you other pieces you weren't expecting but ended up being the keepsakes that kept you moving forward even if meant you had to keep looking back at that moment some. You're going to be looking back at it anyway. Might as well have something happy from it staring you in the face.

So Hank just nodded a little and gestured at Erin. "Starting to show a bit," he offered.

She smiled a bit more at that. A real fucking smile. One that told him she was happy and excited – even though he could feel the nerves radiating off her. First child. Going to be nervous. She'd be okay, though.

She reached and smoothed down the oversized blouse she was wearing with that skirt of hers. Another bit of a giveaway. Unless it was a winter coat or a fall sweater, his girl and her baggy clothes had gone by the wayside years ago. Still, he was surprised to see just how much she was hiding under there. He'd picked up on the bit of weight gain she had going on. But she had a baby belly. A rounded, visible bump.

"Oh, wow," he said and sunk back into the couch staring at it a bit.

But he smiled a bit more at her. He kept her eyes. Felt a little wave of sadness again that he hadn't been around enough or close enough to see that and to hear it from her a bit sooner to get to have noticed that growth in a more real way. Sad for her too – and Jay – to not be with each other for that change. So much change. Nine months. Goes by quickly. To see your wife's body change like that and to know your child is growing in there. To feel him kick. To do all the get-ready-for-baby chores. They were both missing a lot.

"Yea," Erin acknowledged, looking down at the bump and still keeping her hands framing it but she gave Jay a look and a smile. A real one too. "It really kind of popped just this week."

Jay made a small sound of acknowledgement. Hank glanced his way. He was staring at his growing son too – could tell. Couldn't tell what all was going through his head. Couldn't most days anymore. But Hank thought in this case he had a decent enough idea. He'd been there in his own ways too. Real strange thing. Challenges and changes your relationship. Brings you closer in ways you wouldn't suspect and makes you deal with things you wouldn't expect either. Different from here on out – that's for sure. The ultimate in compromise and time and attention sharing.

But you get to see the real power of your wife in those nine months. Something she'll do that you'll never do. Something you'll know or understand in the same way as her. And all you can do is try to be there for her. That'd be an added challenge for Jay with this whole arrangement. But the guy should put in his effort. Enjoy this time as much as he could. With Erin – before she was also someone's mom. And to spend some time getting to know and get ready for that person he'd helped make. That little person who was going to make him look in a whole lot of mirrors he didn't want to look in and spit in his face in the process. But it was worth it too.

"I thought it'd likely be at the point it's pretty hard to hide by the next time we see each other," Erin said. "So I wanted to talk to everyone about it this trip. In-person."

Hank nodded and gestured at her. Trying to figure out something to say about telling Ethan or Olive. Or who else she was going to tell over the holidays. But he didn't know where to start with that. And maybe it was only so much his business. Though, Ethan was his business. But he still felt like he needed to think on that. Before he stuck his foot in it.

So Hank flipped to the next shot and stared at in instead. A bit of a mirror image. Kid looked like he was really lounging in this one. Had moved right out on his back between shots. Looked like he was going to be a bit of kick-boxer or trampoline gymnast. Hands and feet flailing in the air in this one and definitely not as much of a full frontal going on as he'd been giving them in the previous one.

"Mmm …," he grunted and glanced at her again. "This why they giving you the twenty-week line? Only dropped the towel for them for a couple seconds in his gymnastics routine?"

He only got a raised eyebrow. So he tapped at the photo again. "He switched positions on the technician. Putting on a different kind of show in this shot."

Erin allowed a little smile but gave Jay a bit of look. Hank glanced to see that Jay returned it. Returned it and rested his elbow against the armrest, twisting at his lip a bit restlessly. They were clearly sharing some sort of private joke. Almost felt like they were laughing at him.

But Erin retrieved herself out of the chair and came over to sit next to him on the couch.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Tone to it. Like she was playing innocent.

Hank just tapped at the photo again. "Can't see it in this shot," he smacked at her.

She just made a sound – maybe a sound that was too close to one of his own. And she reached and shuffled the previous picture back to the top, holding them side-by-side.

Hank pressed his thumb above the little jutted nub on his grandbaby in the first photo. "There," he clarified for her and then gestured at the second pic. "Can't see anything in that one."

"Mmm …," Erin acknowledged and just kept looking at the pictures. Like she was trying to see something – or didn't quite see what he was meaning. When it was pretty fucking obvious with even a basic understanding of anatomy. "Maybe you aren't looking at it right."

Hank smacked at that and slide the photo out of her fingers. But it was only as he was sliding it – as he looked at where she was holding her finger that he realized the first photo said 'Baby A'. He'd seen that. He hadn't thought much of it. Just like he'd seen on the second shot it said 'Baby B'. But it figured it was just a sequencing thing with doctors trying to make things difficult by doing things a little differently than the rest of the world – by using fucking numbers like everyday people. Now, though, his eyes went back to that 'Baby B' on the second photo and then to 'Baby A' and then to the measurements imprinted in the margins. And he stopped again and he shifted his eyes to her. And Erin nodded at him.

She nodded and he felt that little blip. That little blip like the record is skipping or the world just stopped. Where everything around you grew quiet for a second like a flash-bang had just gone off and you were stuck in that moment of nothingness before you knew your ears were going to fucking ring in a way you couldn't describe. In a way that would likely make them bleed.

But he felt it. He heard it. Even though he few his mind was struggling to catch up for a second.

And he'd felt that little blip before. Felt it each time Cami told him she was pregnant. Had felt that deafening silence with that stinging extended ring when she'd told him they were pregnant with Ethan. He'd felt that catch when Olive had told him she was pregnant – that it was Justin's. And now … that record was skipping again now. Fucking instant replay of his girl's nod.

Some Voight family moment that would be stuck in sports history. Playing up there on the highlight reel that Jay still had going on up on the TV.

Twins.

Twins. It changed everything.

Two grandbabies.

Erin in New York. Halstead here. Ethan sick. Woods riding his ass. Work. Camille gone. H still needing family and a grandpa – to have Justin in his life.

And twins.

Hank didn't know what to say. Not without putting his foot in his mouth. Or his head up his ass.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. If they'd be happy tears or sad ones. Or just fucking overwhelmed ones.

He didn't know if Erin had any concept of just how much work this was going to be. And for her to be alone in New York?

But she was an adult. And she was smart and bright and kind and giving and forgiving and sacrificing. And she'd shown that to the family over and over again. She was a good sister. A good daughter. A good woman. And good police. She was a strong, independent woman. And now she was going to be a mother to two little people. She'd decided to do this – she'd made her choice and maybe she'd made some of her peace with her childhood and her mother and with family and her past and her baggage.

He had to hope that. For her and for these two grandkids right here. In his hands. In her belly.

And his eyes set there. He still tried to come up with something to say. Something better than 'oh, wow' again. Something better than 'you're plates full' or 'sounds like you've had a lot on your mind'.

But Erin just reached and again tugged at the second photo – taking it and the first in her hand and revealing a third to him. The third that showed his two grandbabies on display. Playing with each other. Feet to feet. One trying to tease the other while he sucked at his thumb.

And Hank couldn't take his eyes off it. He couldn't help but think of Camille more. And he hadn't even realized that a tear at slipped out until it spattered on the photo. And his hand smacked up to his eyes, squinting them shut and pressing his fingers into them to try to stop.

"Sorry …," he mumbled.

"It's okay," Erin said evenly. And it was her hand on his shoulder—trying to comfort him. Rubbing it and giving it a squeeze. "I know. It's … kind of overwhelming."

He allowed a small sound of amusement. He'd nearly had to make himself do it. Just like he near had to make himself drop his hand and look at her. To see her – because she was the one who deserved to be overwhelmed in all this. And there she was. Strong, stubborn, independent. His girl. Rising to the occasion. She did that more often than not. Found a way. Her way. The way he'd taught. Or at least he'd like to think he'd taught her some.

"Your Mom … Camille—"

"She was my mom, Hank," Erin corrected. "More of a mom than I'd ever had before that and the best mom I could've asked for in the years I got to have her in my life. She taught me well. I know it. I listened. I learned. I promise."

He gave her a weak smile at that. He could feel his eyes threatening to betray him again. But he reached for her hand and gave it a tight, tight squeeze.

"She'd be real proud of you, Kiddo," he said. "And … just so happy. Excited."

She gripped his hand back. "I hope that my dad and their Popa is happy and excited too."

And there were those fucking onions again.

Hank pressed into his free hand into his eyes – because she wasn't letting go of the other one. He managed to stall them some but didn't think he was stopping them.

"I am," he nodded.

And his girl's hand still gripped at his fingers. "Hank, I know that there's lots going on in my life and here. And with Ethan—"

And he shook his head and brought his hand down from his eyes – but only to hold it up at her to get her to stop. To let her look at his eyes and see what she was doing to him.

"Don't," he rasped firmly. "We don't need to talk about that tonight. It can wait. This is good news. Happy news. Want to focus on this."

She allowed him weak smile and a little nod. She just mouthed 'okay'. And he knew they needed to talk about it. That there was … fucking lots to talk about in the coming days and weeks and months. Lots to figure out and work out and just fucking force the pieces together to make work. But right now – he needed some time to get a handle on all that. Right now – he just wanted to get a handle on this. Something easier in the moment – by just focusing on this moment. And sometimes you just needed to do that. Maybe he needed to do that more anymore. And learn to do it better. Just live in the moment. With all his kids. And all his grandkids. To take the happy moments as he got them. Focus on that.

"It looks like you're going to have your hands full," he managed.

He wished he could manage better but it was what he could manage. But it was something to fill the gap and the silence. To make it not so deafening and to keep the overwhelming aspects of reality from ringing in their ears too loudly for the moment. Just put them on the sidelines for the moment. Because this was the headline act. It was the show.

"Ah, yea," Erin allowed with a little tilted smile. "I think so."

He pointed at – caressed briefly, swiping away the tear mark and running his thumb along the spines of his two coming grandkids – the picture. "Already teasing each other," he offered.

And it earned a bigger smile out of her and she glanced at Jay. She put her one hand back behind her to find his and squeeze it.

"We could see them moving," she said. "Sucking thumbs. Toes moving. Arms and legs. It even almost looked like this guy was making faces at us," she added with a tap on Baby A. "Scowling. Not sure if he's getting that from Dad or Popa. But clearly already telling us he's going to be trouble. Just challenging us to tell him to stop sucking his thumb."

"Doing things his way," Hank muttered with a little smile and looked at the photo but then looked back her way. "Boys?"

Erin nodded and pulled the picture of Baby A back to the front. "You were right," she allowed. "Or likely right. They said they were about eighty percent sure that he's a boy."

Hank gave his head in shake and looked at her. But she shrugged. "Brothers," she nodded at him. "I know what I'm in for."

He gave a dismissive sound and glanced at Jay. Wondered if he had any idea. Any real idea. Not that you really could until you held your son in your arms and then had him walking and talking and eventually yelling at you. Least there were hugs and 'love yous' scattered in there too. On occasion.

"They going to be identical?" Hank asked.

Erin shook her head at that and pulled the photo of the two babies to the top again, running her finger down a thin white line seemingly separating them.

"Got there own space and own placentas," she said. "Working on taking up as much space as possible."

"Oh, yeah," Hank said. "Boys do that. Leave a real mess of any room you put them in."

Erin allowed him a little smile but put Baby B back on the top. "Well, I actually think he might have a pushy sister to tell him to clean his act up."

And there was that blip and bump and fast-bang again. And he found himself unsure if he wanted to stare at the picture – at his granddaughter – or at his girl. He managed to snag Erin's eyes but his granddaughter won out.

"It's a girl …?" he rasped. And that time it was a real rasp. It wasn't his gravel. He felt it fucking catch in his throat.

A girl. A little girl that he'd get to see and hold and watch grow from Day One. One that he wouldn't have to play catch up with. One that he wouldn't lament or worry about all he'd missed.

Erin was the daughter that he and Camille had been waiting for. He knew that. He knew that life had brought them the daughter they were supposed to have. Thirteen years after they'd thought she was coming to them – they'd got her. She'd arrived late. But they got her. And struggled and fought for her and raised her.

And now that daughter was giving them a grandchild where they could … he could … be there for the moments he'd missed out on with her. To see her as a baby and a little girl. To try to protect her from some of the things her mother had gone through.

And a little boy too. A little boy that was all Erin. And Jay. That hair and those eyes. And the mix of those two. They'd be good looking babies. He knew that much. But he hoped it was his daughter's eyes in one of their sockets and those dimples too.

"Right now, it's an educated guess that it's a girl," Erin said. "But it's pretty educated. I have other pictures I can show you if you really want to do a microscopic examination of your grandchild's genital area."

"Oh, I've already been the perv who did that," Jay said. "And I'm adding my expert opinion to the ultrasound lady's 'educated guess'. She's a girl."

Hank allowed a little laugh and looked at her. Or he tried. But felt his vision blur again and he again put his hand up to try to push them back.

"I'm sorry," he gravelled.

"It's okay," Erin said. "It's been a long road. A long time coming."

But he again shook his head at her and looked at her. "I can't wait to meet her. Them," he corrected. "Both of them."

And she gave him a thin smile. One that made him wonder if he'd said something wrong or if he hadn't reacted enough or he'd reacted too much. Or if she was just overwhelmed with sorting through all this too. She'd taken a step and now she had all these other steps ahead of her. A lifetime's worth. Ones that would just harder and heavier. He knew that.

He knew that because he'd done it. He was still doing it. He was wading through the mud and dirt and sand and floods and fucking quicksand. It was doing the one step forward and two steps back. But he was never running from it.

And he reached and wrapped his arms around her. She patted at his back. And then held him too.

"Thank you, Erin," he said. "I'm real proud of you. Really excited for you."

He was luckiest man in the world. A wife and happy marriage. Three strong, smart, independent, stubborn kids. And upping it to three grandkids. Three wild, crazy, make his hair go greyer grandkids.

You couldn't ask for much more than that.

He was a lucky man.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Two chapters got posted yesterday — Chapter 24 and 25 (Memories Past and The Right Time). They were posted less than 24 hours apart so didn't bump. Please check to make sure you saw them both.**

 **Also — three chapters were posted within 24 hours of each other before that (Chapter 21-23 — The Thing About Elephants, The Deal, and Mean Girl). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them.**

 **Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	27. Their Way

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Jay stared at the ceiling. He felt a little dazed. Maybe more than a little.

"What are you thinking?" Erin asked.

It drew him out of it. His head even though he was doing his best to not think of anything and he wasn't even sure that he was thinking at all.

It was like his mind was going so many directions that he'd managed to find a numb spot. Like he'd gotten clogged up in traffic but that he was okay with that. Just sitting there listening to the horns and the radio and the smell of the fumes and inching forward bit-by-bit. That slowing down to that speed was sort of enough. But that he was caught between two things. Something he was trying to get away from and something he was trying to get toward. And he was frustrated that it didn't feel like he was moving.

But it was also good to have some sort of reason to call in and say why he wasn't. An excuse about why he was caught up. But he also wasn't ramming at his horn or flipping on the sirens trying to get the rest of the fucking jagoffs to clear the way. He was happy to just sort of sit there. For a moment. With the radio.

With trying to pinpoint the lyrics going through his ears – as his brain bounced around. My Way. His head had somehow clicked to My Way.

Voight … Hank … he'd called himself a lucky man. The guy who'd been through so fucking much and them telling him that he was about to be a grandpa again – times two – was enough to get him to somehow wipe that away and call himself a lucky man. Enough for when Hank stood up – and stood in front of him and so Jay had stood too and shaken his hand. Hank had gripped his hand so hard that he'd nearly crushed it and had rapped him on the bicep and gripped at his shoulder and called him a "lucky man" too. Had told him "You're a lucky man."

And that was just going on repeat. Repeat in trying to understand that and trying to find some sort of truth in it. Trying to come to grips with how Hank would've come to that conclusion about his own life – let alone his.

A lucky man.

Somewhere in that – sitting in the front room of the Voight family home and Hank and Erin still talking. Jay knowing that they were still giving him glances like he was invited or wanted to participate in the conversation. But he'd stopped hearing what they were saying. He didn't know what they were talking about. He couldn't tell you know what the two of them there had sat there talking about. He assumed the babies. But maybe not. Maybe it was Christmas plans or Ethan or Henry or Erin's work or something about the job. Or the Hawks on TV. Jay didn't have a fucking clue. He hadn't heard any of it. Because he just kept hearing "you're a lucky man" over and over again in his head. He kept trying to figure that out. What that meant.

And he … he remembered that there'd been that time that Ruzek had tried to be too buddy-buddy with Voight – asking what he'd sing when Hank had indicated a fucking impossible circumstance where he'd take them all out for a karaoke singalong. Voight had just done one of his smacks at that and indicated that he'd sing 'My Way'. He knew there was more than one Sinatra record in the Hank and Camille record collection that him and Erin had inherited. He knew that in Erin's weirdly eclectic taste in music, pulling out those Sinatra records – and other Chicago jazz and blues legends – was just part of the strange rotation that went on in their house. Back when their house was more of a home. The kind of home that they needed to get back to.

But now it was that fucking record on rotation in his head as he tried to figure out how Voight could call himself – how he could call Jay – a lucky man. Those lyrics. And Jay knew them. And some how them ringing through his head now gave him a different understanding and maybe more of an understanding of Voight – of Hank – as a man and a husband and a father.

And he wondered what kind of lesson that was for him. What he should take from it. Sitting there stuck in the fucking traffic of his life – trying to move beyond his past and get to the future that was looming. That he could learn from it as a man and a father. What he needed to learn. For Erin and for the babies.

So that maybe he could look back on it all too and really say he was a lucky man and believe it. And say that he'd done it his way. That he'd had a full life. That that was without any kind of argument. That he was able to rise above his regrets. That he was able to plan and be organized and be accountable in the life he'd made. And that when he fucked up, he still managed to face up to it and deal with it. To cope with it. To fucking stand tall no matter who was spitting at him or cricticizing him. And that despite his loses, he'd still faced life head on and lived life his way. For himself and for his family – and it'd worked. His way. With love, laughter and tears that were worth it in a fucking lucky life. A life that he'd been given and got that others around him hadn't. The parts of it he'd earned and the parts of it that had been cast on him. That it wasn't just luck despite him being a lucky man – because he dealt with it, lived with it and lived his way.

Jay hoped he could get to that eventually. That he could believe it.

But what he told Erin he was thinking about was: "This room smells like Olive now. It's weird."

And she smiled at him. His Summer Wind.

Another one of the fucking Sinatra songs that Erin had on the record player. And a quiet realization striking him that she played them because it was what the people who raised her put on in the house while she was growing up. And that that song – it was likely a song Hank put on for his wife. Romanizing her with Sinatra the same way he thought used, rare edition books were the best kind of gift. That maybe they'd had some on-again, off-again like him and Erin. That maybe they had to sort it out too so it wasn't some fleeting romance. That she wasn't the one who got away. That she'd be his summer wind all through the year. Because you couldn't beat that. Not coming off the lake along the beaches of Lake Michigan. Not up at the cabin for long days on the river and the warm breezes into the night around the fire or in the hammock. Maybe for Voight and his wife – not on whatever lakes or rivers they took their kids camping and fishing at. Or the rental they got on Lake Geneva to create those family memories. Memories that managed to grow out of holding onto and riding along with – following – that summer wind in your life.

Or maybe he just needed a fucking drink. He needed to stop thinking about grandpa music. Hank's fucking grandpa music. Though, Jay supposed he was allow. The guy was a grandpa. The guy just got told he was a grandpa. And Jay's mind was stuck that traffic jam with that fucking radio blaring at him. Supposed it could be blaring worse.

Besides the Olive comment got a smile. Though, it wasn't a joke. This room didn't feel like Erin's anymore. It didn't smell like her either.

"I think that's her inscents," she provided.

"I hope she's not burning that in the condo," Jay muttered. "Likely decreasing its value."

She found his hand – dragging her arm from under the covers to find his over the top. And she squeezed it.

"We don't have to sleep here, Jay," she said. "We can go back to the house."

He made a sound and pressed his free hand up into his forehead. "It's late," he mumbled.

"Jay, it's all of five minutes out," she said.

He let out a slow breath and turned his head from his ceiling stare to look at her – at her concern.

"I'm just … tired," he said.

"And maybe you'd sleep better at home."

He sighed and pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead again. "I'm not going to sleep. We might as well stay here and try to … call him out … or Eth on the fucking air mattress thing."

Her other hand came up and pulled his away from his face. And tilted his eyes to look at hers. She kept her hand on his cheek.

"What are you thinking?" she put to him more directly. Or she more directly called him on his B.S. really.

He sighed again and again tried to stare at the ceiling but her hand stayed in place and didn't let him.

"That I'm not sure he thinks I have a handle on this," Jay said.

She stared at him. Jay felt her fingers curl a bit around his jaw as she said it. "I don't think that's what he was thinking," she said. "I think … he needs some time to get a handle on it too."

"I don't think he trusts me not to screw this up, Erin," Jay put to her. "To not hurt you – or them." And his eyes searched for to try to spot the extra lump under the blankets. To find where they were. But he couldn't. There were too many lumps and bumps and clumps in the bedding that was wrapped around them. He couldn't spot them or find them now. Right now when it should be easier to. And he couldn't. And he wasn't sure what that said about him.

And Erin … as fucking usual … sensed it. And she brought his gripped hand over to the bump that was them and held both their hands there.

"Jay," she said firmly, "I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions. We've both hurt each other before. We'll likely do it again along the way. But we also both know how to deal with some bumps and bruises. So … we'll figure it out."

"Did you see the look on his face?" Jay pressed.

"Yeah, so?" Erin put right back with mild annoyance emerging and her turning more toward him just to display how close she was getting to moving beyond 'mild' into full-on annoyed.

And he knew she was going to try to brush it off. As that being Hank. As him not showing too many emotions. As him not getting overly worked up or excited about much of anything. Not in any kind of giddy way. That the look on his face didn't say anything about how he was feeling or what he was thinking.

And Jay got that. He knew the guy had a poker face. He respected that. He tried to keep his emotions in check and to keep them from playing across his face too. And he knew Voight had him trumped in that regard. That he had something to learn there too, because he wore his emotions – and maybe his heart – a little too much on his sleeve way more often than he'd like to admit or acknowledged.

And it wasn't that look he was referring to anyway. It was the other one. The one where he knew that Voight had gone and scrolled back the calendar fourteen weeks. That he knew when this conception had happened.

And so did Jay.

He fucking knew it. And it made it that much more … confusing.

That he'd shot a little girl. He'd killed a little girl. He'd taken her away from her family and her parents. He'd robbed them of their chance of watching her grow up. And her getting a chance to grow up.

And then … he'd gone to New York and made himself a father. A father times two. And a father to a little girl.

That's what he'd done for himself. That's what life was giving him. When he'd done that.

That life … Erin … was giving him a son and a daughter. A family. A family when he'd just shattered a family. When he'd just gone and fucked up their lives – and his head - about everything even more. And that's what he was being handed. That's what he was getting given … as motivation to get his head on straight.

And … it didn't seem fair. It didn't seem fair to Morgan. It didn't seem fair to her parents – her mom and her dad. It didn't seem fair to Erin. And it didn't seem fair to their little girl growing inside her. Not to their little boy either. Because the two of them … they were going to end up with him as a father. After what he'd done. After all the things he'd done. And how that road – his road, his way – had gotten him there.

He didn't deserve to be that kind of lucky man. And Voight – Hank's look – it'd said he knew that. He knew all that. And that calling him a 'lucky man'. Maybe that just made it all feel like some kind of platitude. Like telling him they were lucky to have him on the team. And right now … they weren't. Not at home. Not at work.

So Jay just stared right back at her. Because he was willing to lock horns on this a bit. At some point. Maybe now. Because he needed to. He needed to get it out there. And out of his head. But he didn't know how. How to say any of that to her. Yet. Even though he knew she must've done the math too. That she knew when they'd gone and … gotten themselves into this. For … better or worse.

But he must've stared at her too long. Or his face wasn't the poker face Voight had and she could tell what he was thinking then. And she didn't want to do it. Not that night.

She huffed at him. "Jay, that's just how he looks. That was his happy look."

"Yea," Jay shook his head – trying to pull himself out of it and away from it. From that toxic train of thought. "The many faces of Darth Vader. Happy, sad, angry, ready to strangle you. All the same."

"Jay," she hissed at him ever so slightly. "We haven't done anything."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it wasn't 'we' he was ready to strangle. Or it was the Royal We. As in me."

She sighed at him and rolled away a bit. Onto her back and to stare at the ceiling herself. Her own hand going up to her forehead and pressing back along her hairline. More like he was giving her a headache than she was trying to get any stray hairs away from her face. Or like she was trying to think and not think – not like him.

But Jay got up on his side and stared down at her until she caught his line of sight. She eyes definitely said she was tipping over into the 'pissed' realm rather than the 'mildly annoyed' one. But they might as well fucking fight this out now in the traffic jam so they were … in a different place when they got to the fucking destination.

"I knocked you up."

She rolled her eyes and took them away from him – back up to the ceiling while she shook her head at him. "I'm hundred percent sure I was a complacent participant in that happening."

But he ignored her interruption. "When we aren't married. When our relationship is … undefined."

Her eyes came back to his. "Our relationship is defined, Jay," she pressed at him and gestured at her mid-section. "It's just fucking complicated."

"When Ethan is …" he shook his head.

And so did she. "Don't go there. Not tonight. He had a good night. I had a good night."

He sighed and stared down at her. "And work? Me screwing it up here. You killing it – in New York."

"Jay," she looked him in the eye. "I knew all this when I made my decision. My decision," she stressed. "Okay? And you need to…" she sighed and looked away from him again.

"He thinks I'm going to fuck it up," Jay said again.

And her eyes came back to his firmly. "If we keep having to have conversations like this after every time we tell someone or have an appointment. Or just fucking see each other or talk to each other, then, yeah, Jay," she nodded at him and then gestured between the two of them, "you might be inching into the realm of fucking this part of it up."

He sagged a bit on his elbow at that. As it hit him and knocked him back. And he let it. He let it force him to stop. Because he needed to. Because if he kept going at it like a dog with a bone – then … maybe they'd get to her then. And he didn't want that.

That wasn't what he was trying to do. It wasn't what he wanted. He was just … trying to figure this out. Trying to … fucking work through it. And he still … didn't know how. And he seemed to be doing it all wrong. Every time he thought he might be making some progress and doing a bit better at it – he seemed to be taking a step back. Because all that progress, all that doing better - it was being triggered by … happiness, excitement. And … then … they got passed that moment, he thought about that moment. And he didn't feel like he deserved it. Not that happy moment or the excitement of it. And … not what was coming at him.

"Sorry …," he whispered.

She turned her head to look at him. She looked sadder. Like he'd turned her into a balloon and just deflated some of the happiness he'd seen in her that night. Downstairs. That he'd robbed it from her. Because he couldn't handle it on his own.

"I just … can't do this part of it tonight, Jay," she said. "I'm tired too. The drive and the day and the hospital and the concert. It was long. And … tonight. I … felt happy. I felt excited telling him. Happy with how he took it. Don't wreck that. Just … don't take that away from me. Or us."

And that said it all. He was fucking it up.

And he couldn't fuck this up. Even if he didn't really deserve any of this. Or know how to do any of this. To raise a son? To raise a daughter? At the same time? And to not fuck them up too.

"You made him cry," he whispered. And even though Hank had tried to hide those tears, he also hadn't. And that had been strange and confusing too. That Hank could be the kind of man he was – but he'd let himself cry. In front of him. In front of Erin.

"We made him cry," Erin corrected and drew his hand back to where it'd been on her stomach – over the babies. "All four of us."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing …," Jay said quietly, staring at his hand and that bump and still waiting for that moment that likely wouldn't come for weeks and weeks more where he could actually get to feel them move and not just see it on a screen.

"It's a Camille thing," Erin told him gently and reaching to hold his hand that time. "And … he's tired too. Christmas and a hospital day with Eth. You know how he gets."

"Yea …," Jay acknowledged. He knew how Hank got and he also sort of knew how it was.

"At least we aren't donating any new mirrors, toilet stall doors or patch-up plaster this time around," she offered.

He allowed her a little smile at that effort. But just stared at the babies – at where they were right now. He tried to focus on righting himself and them being right.

"What … were you and Hank talking about … after?" he asked carefully. But then turned and met her eyes more honestly. "I guess I kind of checked out."

Her hand touched at his forehead and kept his eyes. "I know …" she acknowledged.

And he sighed at that – his head sagging but her brought his chin back up and his eyes to hers.

"Just about plans for the next few days," she said. "Plans for tomorrow."

Jay let himself settle back down next to her and wrapped his arm around her – leaning it against the bump their kids were already creating. To keep some of his skin – presence – against them. That maybe they'd feel him and know he was there. And start getting used to his imperfections. Or getting a read on how much he pissed off their mom and seemed to consistently find ways to annoy the shit out of her and even fuck it up with dumbass shit he said that she didn't agree with – but she still seemed to put up with him. Maybe they'd feel that too. And they'd learn to put up with him too. Or maybe at least they'd get an early education on her body chemistry and tell when you were annoying the shit out of her. And maybe that'd give them the upper hand in playing mom – since Erin was so fucking take-no-prisoners. And he wasn't sure – only he was because he'd seen how she was with Ethan and knew she could bend – would play out with her as a mom.

"I've sort of got to go into work tomorrow," he said. "For the afternoon."

And her thumb was up tracing along his hairline. And it felt nice. She was one of the few touches in his life that felt nice. That he liked and wanted. So much. That he missed getting regularly so much. Because … it helped, it stabilized him.

And he had to wonder what touch from his kids would do for him. Because he was going to hug them and he was going to hold them and he was going to change diapers and give them baths and hold their hand in the street and push them on the swing set and put them up on his shoulders so they could see above the crowd and get closer to touching those fireworks up in the sky and to perfect the fucking toss and flip in the swimming pool and lake that Eth told him he sucked at because he sent water going on his nose but that he knew he needed to get down because he wanted to do it just right – like Hank did for his kids. Because he wasn't going to be the kind of father his father had been.

He was going to be better and do better. He'd hug and kiss his kids and tell them 'good night' and that he loved them. Every fucking day. And he wondered what all those touches would feel like. What any of that felt like. When it was your kids. When he'd skirted away from touch so much. Especially from other men.

But now he'd have a little boy. One that would learn to like and want hugs from his father. One who'd want them. And he'd want them back. And to teach him good touch and bad touches and ownership over his body and boundaries. And to try to teach all that to his little girl too.

He didn't know how to do that. He didn't know if he knew what hugs from a little girl would feel like either. What it'd feel like to hold the hand of a little girl – the little girl that he'd help bring to life in the days after he took a life. And he didn't know if he should think of Morgan every time he saw her and felt her hugs and held her hand and heard her laugh. Or if he should spend the rest of his life – and her life – trying not to remember that. Because he was afraid that if he didn't bury it, it might … she might … all become a trigger for him. And he didn't want that. Not for his little girl.

"Hank's making me go to the company shrink …"Jay whispered at her. "Tomorrow. At one. Mandatory."

She nodded and kept moving her finger there. She kept looking at him. And he must've said it downstairs. Or Hank had already told her in some backwards way.

"I think that's a good thing," she told him.

"I think he thinks I'm a fuck-up," Jay said.

She shook her head at him and kept his eyes more firmly. "I think he knows you're struggling to go get the help you – we – need yourself. So he's giving you a push."

"That doesn't sound like keeping the personal-personal and the professional-professional," Jay muttered at her.

But Erin only shrugged. "Maybe it isn't. But I'm glad you're going to go in."

He let out a slow exhale and stared at her. "I don't know what to talk about there. What even to say. What won't come back to just fucking bite me in the ass. Cost me my job."

Her hand landed against his cheek. "That's not how it works. You know that. So what you do is … you take a bite of the elephant, Jay. And you just keep chewing until it's palatable enough to swallow."

"I don't know where to bite first," he told her.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "Just take a bite."

He shifted his eyes and stared at the babies again.

"How fucked up is it that this kind of turns me on," he muttered and set his head against her to stare at them a bit more. And her hand landed on the back of his head. In his hair. And that felt good too.

"That's likely some piece of the cavemen brain kicking in," she said. "Getting all possessive and egoistically about what you managed to do in all your manliness."

"My next NPR pitch," he allowed.

"Someone's likely already beaten you to it," she said and he allowed a little smile against her. "Sex sells."

And he shifted his head to smile up at her. She smiled back at him. Her hand stayed on his head.

"Want honesty?" she raised her eyebrow at him.

"Always," he said.

"Even though things are a little uncomfortable – extra blood flow, crazy hormones, added pressure and different angles. It equals some pretty fucking speculator orgasms."

He felt the grin pull more at mouth. "Kinda noticed."

She rolled her eyes at him. He knew she knew. He'd been getting some pretty speculator shows – and sounds – out of her. It'd added to the turn on. And it'd definitely given him some pretty fucking speculator orgasmic moments of his own.

But he let himself rest his head to look at the babies again – only that time he wasn't. Not really. He was looking at her. Her body and the woman she was and the woman she was growing into. How she was changing but still so much her.

"Too bad this bedroom now not only is your childhood bedroom with your dad and brother next door – it now smells like Olive and two-year-old boy."

She allowed a small amused sound and kept scraping her nails against his scalp. He loved when she did that.

"I told you we didn't have to sleep here," she said.

He allowed his own noise at that. And he looked at her. Measuring how serious she was. If she really wanted to go home. And if that would be the reason they were going home. Technically, they'd already done that before going to Eth's thing. But he wasn't exactly going to turn down a second round.

"Should we get out of here?"

But she just shrugged. "I don't think Olive and Henry smell that bad," she contended.

"Yea," Jay said and gestured at the door and the wall that Eth and Hank were behind in a house where everyone heard pretty much everything. "But, like you said lately things have been pretty …" and he made the exploding fist that she had so much and got a laugh out of her despite how she creased her brow and gave him a gently slap in the collarbone.

He grinned at her. He grinned because he'd made her laugh. Because he loved so much that he could do that. That even though he annoyed her and pissed her off – that he still did that. And maybe that's part of why she put up with him. Maybe.

"More honesty?" she put to him, though and held at his bicep.

"Sure," he nodded and settled down a bit more next to her.

"The sex – lately," she said, keeping his eyes. "And not just …" she gestured at her changing body. "It's felt … for me … a different level of … I guess sensuality and intimacy."

Jay kept her eyes. "I know," he acknowledged. "I mean, I get it. I feel it."

"We're making love again," she said.

And he stared at her. He knew what she meant. It'd definitely just been … sex for a while. And it'd felt strange for it to be just that with her. But their whole relationship had felt off and strange for a while.

"I'd agree with that," he conceded.

"I like it," she said.

"Yea … me too," Jay said.

"I mean …," she sighed and fell silent for a moment. Her eyes drifted to where the babies were too. "I mean that it's helping me deal with where we are in our relationship. To feel like we're getting somewhere in working through all this. And I want us to … keep working on it."

"Me too …"

And her eyes stuck to his. More like they bore into his. "So I need you to take the therapy seriously," she said. "Because I need you to start at least trying to deal with some of your stuff before they get here. So we can keep working on our stuff. Because after they get here, Jay, we're going to have … a whole list of new stuff to work through. Both of us. And as a couple. Probably a lot of stuff that we don't even realize it's going to bring up right now."

And that had to sit there for a long time too. He knew she was right. But that didn't make it any easier.

And he didn't know what to say about that either so he just rested his head near her shoulder again and stared at the people he was going to have to find it in him to do it for. Because he'd been given this opportunities – these opportunities – when so many other people who'd been in his life had slipped away and missed out on all this.

"Hank didn't ask when they were due," Jay said.

He could feel the shift in Erin and knew that she didn't like how he'd switched topics. That she was disappointed. But he felt like it was connected. Because she'd given him a timeline. And it was so fucking short to get this operation ready.

"He did," she said quietly. Jay shifted a bit to catch her eyes and to wrap his arm around her again to hold her. To feel nearer to her too. So maybe she wouldn't be too annoyed with … how he dealt with things.

"What'd you tell him?" he asked. Because he knew that it must've been part of the conversation while he was … listening to that radio stuck in traffic, not hearing a thing but the Chairman of the Board in his eyes.

"June twenty-fifth," she said. "But that the doctor told us it's more likely we'll be scheduling a C-Section for around the end of May."

Jay rubbed his head there a bit and stared at where the babies were right now and where the doctors were likely going to be wanting to cut into Erin. And he'd caused that likelihood in her life too. That he'd created this higher risk situation for her and the babies.

"I've been reading," he said. "Average for twins is thirty-five. Multiples, it could be even thirty-three or twenty-nine."

"Then we'll deal with that if it happens," Erin said so fucking evenly. So fucking confidently.

"They could be here in early May," Jay stressed at her. "Even April. That's soon. It's the end of December, Erin."

And her hand pushed through his bangs and scraped his scalp again. "One bite at a time, Jay."

"I don't know where to start …," he muttered and rested against her again. "There's … a lot to fucking do. And I'm not good at some of this shit. And you're in New York."

"Jay," she pressed again. "One bite at a time. And that's what phones and FaceTime and webcams and planes, trains and automobiles are for. We'll figure it out."

"Not proper police planning …"

She wagged her hand against the top of his head a bit. "We screwed that part up from the get."

He allowed her a little smile. And then gazed at her. "Have you started thinking of names?"

She made a quiet sound and stared ahead of her for a moment. "More like I've started thinking of names that are a hard no."

He smiled against her shoulder blade at that. He knew what she meant. Cases. Perps. High school bullies.

"So Stephanie isn't on the list?" he cracked.

And she gave him a little nudge at that – but smiled. Even though it was clear she was ready for a bit of space – without him leaning against her or staring at her. Or more the babies.

He settled on the mattress next to her and stared through the dark with her.

"Where's Camille on the list?" he asked and rolled his head to look at her.

But she shook her head. "That'd be too hard on Hank," she said. "And, as much as I loved Camille, I don't love the name."

He smiled a bit at that and still stared at her until she met his eyes. "Are you thinking you—"

"No," Jay interjected. "Same."

Erin nodded and stared at him. "You know … I'm not even sure I know how to say your mom's name properly. I've only seen it on paper. You always just call her 'mom'."

"What am I supposed to call her?" he quipped and it got her to nudge her shoulder a bit more against his. But he only allowed her a smile. "Eithne," he pronounced for her.

She gave him a small smile and he saw a softening in her eyes. "It's pretty, Jay."

"Yea …," he agreed.

Her hand gripped at his under the covers. "If you change your mind, we could be some of those people who give the kids their initials."

He snorted a bit at that and looked at her. But he could tell she was serious. He just wasn't sure that he could handle it. For the same reasons she didn't want Camille on the list of considerations. It'd just be too hard. Just like he was already having to coach himself to not float Morgan as a possibility – as a penitence or some sort of harsh self-flagellation. It just wasn't appropriate. As much as it might be an honor to someone – it was a hard cross to bare in the day-to-day.

"What was her maiden name?" she asked instead.

"Quinn," he said.

Erin made a small sound and gazed at him. "That's a good one. For either of them."

He nodded. "Boys are easier." She raised her eyebrow at that. "Names, I mean," he stressed at her. Though, maybe boys were just easier. He thought so. But he didn't really know. He didn't know who he was more nervous about arriving and raising – his daughter or his son. He was pretty sure he'd manage to piss both of them off. Hopefully not irreparably.

"Yea …?" she put to him.

"Sure," he shrugged. "Just keep in simple. Jack, Luke, Nick."

"Seemed to have that list right at the tip of your tongue," she teased him.

He groaned at her a little. But it wasn't like he hadn't thought about it. But it wasn't like he'd checked out any baby name websites yet either. Yet.

"Not Nick," she said but then thought about it. "Maybe Nick." She looked at him. "Nick was Camille's dad's name."

"Really?" Jay squinted.

"Nico," she clarified. "Everyone called him Nick. Nick and Frankie Vito."

Jay skewed his eyebrows. "Frankie?"

"Francesca," Erin said. "And not doing that to a little girl either."

He smiled a bit. "What about Voight's mom? Her names?"

"Mmm …," That gravel she made that Jay was still working on figuring out if it was nature or nurture. It was too much like some of the ones the guy who raised her made. "Magdalene. Maggie. Muller. I think."

"Maggie's not awful," Jay said.

Erin shrugged. "She was a nice lady."

He gazed at her at that. It was hard imaging Voight having a mom. Or to envision what kind of lady she was like. "Why's she not around anymore?"

And Erin shrugged at that too. "Brain aneurism. Caused a hemorrhage. Massive stroke."

And he stared at her. Not sure what to say to that. To another sudden loss Hank had had in his life.

"When … ?"

"Ah …," Erin said and pressed her hand through her hair. "2005. So, Ethan was about two-ish. I was nineteen. So I'd been a part of the family for a while. She was always good to me. Camille's parents too. They just took … a bit longer to warm up to … the situation. Me."

Jay stared at her again at a loss for what to say but he'd been the one who'd … pressed her into that topic. And she looked at him.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on putting any of Hank's parents' names on the list. Richard is already taken anyway." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I don't know what Justin was thinking." She looked at him. "Hank Dick? Why would you do that to a child?"

He gave her a smile. "He was likely thinking he was going to beat the Golden Girl out on claiming either of those names."

"Right," Erin said. "Because they were both definitely going to be top of my list."

He allowed her another smile and tried to settle again. He tried to figure out what was next. How to get there. His way.

"Guess Will will be super thrilled you're beating him out on first pick of boy names and girl names," Erin said.

He made a little noise and looked at her. "He's already claimed by proxy my grandpa's name – likely adding to his hopeful delusion that him and Natalie are meant to be."

Erin squinted at him. "Owen?"

Jay shrugged. "Well, Eoin. E-O-I-N," he spelled out and shook his head. "We're … more Irish than you think."

But she only smiled at him and gave his shoulder another little nudge. "Another E name," she teased. "And we could annoy your brother."

Jay allowed a small, quiet laugh to escape and smiled at her. She had that pain-in-the-ass twinkle going on.

"I thought for that she gets E and he gets J," he put back to her.

"Or we could be those other people," she said, "and give them both names that start with the same letter."

Jay raised his eyebrow at her. "Because we are really those people."

"Absolutely," Erin said. "Elephant nursery, matchy-matchy names, Santa is too lazy to wrap stocking presents in our house people."

And he just looked at her because imagining that – those people, that family – it didn't sound that bad. It didn't sound that overwhelming. It sounded … fucking manageable. And pretty … fucking normal.

So he only smiled at her and got back up propped on is elbow. He looked down at her and started to lean in for a kiss.

"Our way …," he agreed with her before finding her lips. And listening to the fucking lyrics in his ears again – fully ready to let it drown out the sounds of other people in the house or the smell of anything but the woman next to him.

Because that was their way too. And it more or less seemed to be working. Some days. That day, at least.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **So I'm vaguely contemplating doing a Jay shrink chapter. But I think some of that interior monologue would've already been covered in this chapter. So I'm not sure.**

 **I might also do a Erin/Ethan/Platt/Henry chapter (an Erin or possible Ethan POV) that would feature a small part from Hank and likely Woods, and possibly a moment with Burgess and/or Upton. But not sure.**

 **I might just jump to the Erin POV that would include Ethan and Jay, and would be them talking to Ethan about what's going on. There's a small possibility that I might do that one from Ethan's POV. But I'd need to think some more about what a kid his age going through what his going through would've going through his head when he got the news. So it will likely just be an Erin POV.**

 **Anyway …**

 **For this particular chapter, your comments and reviews are appreciated.**


	28. Tick Tock

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Jay clutched at his coat. He was almost hoping that the therapist going over to her desk might mean she'd get distracted with something else. That some more pressing phone call with someone who had problems bigger than him would come in. That she'd spot some piece of paperwork on her desk that she needed to read and sign-off on and get sent out – right then. That she'd just forget that she was only stepping over there to flip open when he knew must be his file with all his admittance paperwork on last time. To shove it into that leather-bound portfolio with a note in it that did absolutely nothing to disguise the fact that she was going to be glancing at it and jotting notes about him. And to come and back to the sitting area with that couch that was likely supposed to look comfortable.

But it didn't. It was all form and didn't look like it would serve the function it was probably meant to. To ease you into this. Nothing about the wood-panelled space and the blue furnishings made him feel at ease. The color choice didn't make him think she was an ideal fit for working with male patients or with cops. It just looks … as fucking contrived as this whole activity felt.

"I'm Dr. Rebecca Sloane," she said and she sat.

It made Jay feel like now he at least had to sit. He couldn't just stand there like a complete jack-ass – be a complete jack-ass to her – even though he wanted to. To get his point across. Whatever that was. That he didn't want to be there.

Only he did. Because it was what he needed to do. For the job – to keep his job and to stay in the unit that would at least stand by him while all this bullshit was going on around him of his own making and in his head and concocted by other cops and society and news media and politicians that had caused this whole internal audit thing that he'd managed to get himself caught in the cross-hairs of. To have them breathing down his fucking neck. And that pissed him off enough – because even though he'd done things wrong – he hadn't done that much wrong. Not enough for them to take his job from him. To make some sort of example from him. He was more than paying his own penance for all this. Just fucking all of it. In his head. But it wasn't even about them coming after him or after his job or even really the job – even though he knew he needed the job. It was that first caulking that helped fill those holes in himself when he'd gotten back state-side. When he'd tried to settle back into the way civilians saw life and lived life. But it wasn't about that either. It was about … he needed the job. A fucking job. A good job with reasonable pay and reasonable benefits and 401K and maybe even their fucking useless union. Because he had kids on the way. He had a family he'd made. He was going to be a father. And he needed to be a man about that.

So if Voight was telling him he needed to do this – because Upton was complaining about him. He needed to do this to save face and save his job and to have that income and safe net. Then he'd do it.

But it wasn't about that either. Erin needed him – wanted him – to do this too. And maybe that was even more important than the job part. Okay, that was fucking more important than the job part. Because she needed to be part of the picture for all those other reasons to work. The kids and a family and being a father and being a man in the household. And he just needed her. She wasn't just caulking in the cracks. She'd been the fucking plug in his dam. And now … this spring and summer and fall … that plugged at slipped out of that gaping hole he had more than a bit. And … he knew … all of that stuff he'd had backed up and buried behind those walls in himself … it just kept seeping out faster and faster. So he couldn't do something to fuck it up more that she went and completely pulled that fucking plug. Because … he wasn't sure he'd bob to the surface as that flood water came rushing out. It was pretty sure he'd drown in the process. That it'd just rush over his head and push him down to the bottom of that hole he'd found.

It was just all of it seemed so fucking connected. He needed the job to deal and he needed Erin to deal. And he was trying to deal to be there for Erin and the twins. But he also needed the job to have the resources to be there for Erin and the kids – in the way a father, a man, should be. But the job was also … causing some of that flood water to press through the cracks in his dam. The whole situation with Erin and their relationship and her choices in the fall … it'd caused that plug their relationship had created to slip. And it wasn't like she was the only one responsible in that. He'd … Jay knew his communication issues and his baggage played a big role in helping nudge her into the headspace she was in when that perfect storm had hit and she'd made her decisions and choices. And she'd left.

She'd left him behind and pulled on that plug. And even though she'd come back. And even though they were working on … working through that. And he still loved her and wanted her and needed her in his life. He really did. There was still that … reality … that she'd left him. Just like … a lot of other people had in his life. And he was still figuring out how to entirely get over that and to balance it with the need and love he had for her and the want he had to be in his kids life. The want he had for them to have a normal fucking life and childhood and family. And for him to be the kind of father they deserved. One who was there and provided for them – physically, financially and emotionally.

And it was just a hard, confusing fucking balance.

But he didn't think he had any intension of saying any of that to this woman. Because talking about that. It would just lead to talking about other things. Talking about being a cop and things that'd gone down that fall. And things he'd done in his career with CPD. And why he was even in CPD and what that meant – about him and who he was and how he was coping after being military. To talk about the Rangers and Afghanistan and coming back and who he was in those months before he started finding different things to fill the emptiness. And that'd been a hard road and as much as he was sure becoming police made sense there were also moments it didn't make sense. But what the fuck do you do when you come back from Afghanistan? After being fucking Rangers? What the hell do you do after that? It felt like his employment choices were … non-existent. Holding a sign at a construction site. Standing behind a counter serving fast food. Stocking shelves overnight. Working on a factory line. Or getting involved in all kind of bullshit that likely would've ended him up on the other side of the law than the one he'd ended up working on.

And she was likely going to want to get into that too. All of that. Choices he'd made. And why he'd come back. And then he'd have to talk about his mom and health and illness and hospitals and cancer and yet another person in his life dying. Another person leaving him. And another person he felt he hadn't been there for. And maybe another person he hadn't let be there for him because he thought even as a kid and a teenager and a young man – there were things you didn't tell a woman … or anyone … parts of them you didn't let them see or know or even have words to express. Even if that person you should've – could've – been telling was your mom. And even if you knew now you should've told her.

But he didn't know if his mom would've had it in her to fix it. To even try to fix it. Because … she was strong but … she was a battered woman. When you got down to it. That's what her relationship with his dad amounted to. Maybe he hadn't hit her – he'd still beaten her down. All of them. And that had implications for how their family interacted. How they functioned and talked and coped and things they said and didn't say. Things they repressed and buried down and still didn't talk about. Because they'd turned passive aggressive behavior and pretending that everything was okay into a fucking art form. And maybe that was the Canaryville or the Irish-American or just the Chicago in them. That somehow they'd normalized their family dysfunction. But he'd never seemed very normal to Jay. Ever. And now he just chose not to deal with it – not to engage with it – as an adult. Which he knew wasn't healthy either.

He couldn't tell this woman that, though. Because it'd just open the door to talking about his childhood. Talking about his relationship with his father and his relationship with his brother. And why one was non-existent and the other was so damaged. To talk more about people who'd ignored him in times of need. More about people who made him feel damaged and less worthwhile than the majority of the population around him. To feel like maybe they'd look at him – and his wounds – if he actually walked into the hospital with seeping bullet holes or spewing arteries or missing extremities. But life had saved him from that.

It just hadn't saved him in other ways. It'd left other seeping wounds and glaring holes. It'd left its own scars. And those maybe were the ones he didn't want to let this woman to get anywhere near. Why he couldn't even touch on his childhood because she'd some how get into his teens … and what happened. Because she'd start wanting to examining what made him who he was and what influenced the choices he'd made. And that – he knew it formed part of the person he was. And he hated that. He hated that his family life made him enough of a mark for that to have happened to him and it'd made him the perfect victim to not rock the boat too much because … he didn't have anyone to tell and when he tried he was made to feel like he'd done something wrong. That it happening said something about him – that he was weak, that he was meek … that he was gay … or confused.

And he'd made him confused. It still made him fucking confused. And it made him more confused now. Because now he was going to have to raise a son … who wasn't like him. Who things that had happened to him wouldn't happen to his son. So his son knew he could talk to him. And his son wouldn't have this fucking period of his life that scarred him and defined him to the point that he was set down a father of confusion and guilt and awkwardness and just fucking fear about dealing with woman or sex or relationships in a way that made sense. Until you reached you hit thrity and found someone who … almost got it in their own way and who was … willing to work with just how fucked up you were about all of it. Someone you trusted enough to be able to … work with her on some of it. To finally have something that resembled a long-term relationship and to have a sex life that … you weren't walking away from after one-night … or a couple weeks … before she figured out that you were … fucked up.

And he definitely wasn't going to get into that. He wasn't going to talk about his sex life. Not with Erin. Not in the past.

Because the past would just again lead to after the Rangers. After Afghanistan. After the things he'd seen and done there. And who he was when he came home. What he was. And things he'd done – that he couldn't remember and forced himself not to remember because he didn't want to remember.

And this woman would want to talk about that. Talk about the PTSD. And his triggers and fucking breathing exercises and grounding exercises and sensory exercises and journaling and all sorts of crap that he didn't want to get involved with.

And talking about the Rangers and Afghanistan would just ultimately lead to her asking about why he joined. And that would just go back to high school and his teens and what'd happened and his family.

And it was just a whole fucking big circle. Past, present, future.

And Jay didn't know where to start. Or how to start. He didn't want to start with this fucking stranger sitting there and staring at him.

But he sat. He set his coat down next to him – wishing he'd kept it on to try to make a point he was sure guys tried to make to her all the time, that he didn't want to be there and he was going to get his ass out of there as fast a possible. He didn't sit back. He stayed on the edge of the seat – hoping that might get his message across enough. And he clutched his hands. He tried to keep it casual. Not to wrings them too much or hold them too tightly in a way that might be some sort of tell to her. He tried to check himself to make sure he wasn't giving off much of any tell. Not about his headspace. Not about the PTSD. Not about his past or his present or his future.

And he'd wished that maybe he'd shaved. Because maybe that'd be some sort of sign to her. But she didn't know him. She didn't know what his grooming habits were or weren't in other times of his life. And it wasn't like this was poor hygiene. And it wasn't like Erin hated the beard. It wasn't that scraggly. It wasn't that bad. He shouldn't read into it. Neither should this shrink.

"So have you ever been in therapy before?" she asked.

He could see was trying to look casual. Trying to make it causal. But he also saw the way she was sitting in that chair. Next to him – but separate from him. And an armchair to let her spread out and command as much space as possible. Open body language but straight and tall. He knew what she was doing.

"I've talked to someone a while back, yeah," he allowed. "After a shooting."

That was enough. He written that down in his file. Because he didn't know what had gotten written in the paperwork Voight filed in getting him shuffled off to this. He'd left out the group he went to. He left out … a lot of things.

"Right," she acknowledged.

She'd clearly read that in his file but it also clearly wasn't the answer she was looking for. So maybe she'd already dug or maybe his body language was already saying something that he didn't want it to be saying. Because he was trying to be open and causal and polite too. To just get this done with. So whatever paper that needed to be stamped could get stamped. So he could tell Voight and Upton and Erin he'd put in his hours on the couch. And that that would be enough to … get them off his back for a while and to maybe put another finger in the dam for now too.

"Mandatory," she said and she had this fucking smug little smile on her face.

And that pissed him off. A lot. Like this wasn't mandatory too. Like his job still didn't dependent on it. Like it wasn't his fucking C.O. who had made him come. Or just fucking condescension off her that he hadn't sought out this kind of bullshit on his own. Like in the few words he'd scrawled on his twelve-pages of admissions paperwork an the fucking two minutes he'd been in the room, she'd already decided he needed therapy and that he'd done himself a great disservice by not getting it sooner. Like he was one of those guys she'd dealt with a million times before – and she thought they all were just … fucking little men. Scared little boys who hadn't been taught how to deal with their emotions properly or to have all the right words to give them in expressing them or showing them. Like that somehow made them lesser or defective. Or some kind of joke for women like her. Doing fucking jobs like this. Jobs that just looked to get you all jammed up in more ways than one.

So he bristled. He glared. He fucking scowled. He scowled and gave her that fucking eyebrow action that him and Erin had seen their son giving them on the sonogram. Like he knew they were looking at him and judging him and having some fucking condescension about his thumb sucking. Just like this woman was looking at him like he was some sort of thumb sucker and bed wetter now.

But he caught himself. He forced himself to stop. Because if he wasn't polite maybe she wouldn't stamp her piece of paper. Maybe she'd decide this had to go on for weeks or months. That she really needed to shrink his head or psychoanalyze him. And Jay didn't have the time or the patience for that.

"So what," he put to her and sat up a bit, "you ask me questions and I talk. Right?"

Keep it simple. Stupid.

"It's your time," she smiled at him again. He didn't like her smile. At all. "If you have something you want to talk about – I'll listen."

Right. And then you'll ask questions. And then we'll get right into that whole fucking paradoxical loop of how this leads to that leads to this. No.

"And … if I don't …?" he put to her.

And she shrugged at him. Closed her eyes and shrugged. Like she'd heard that before too. Like she was used to it. No kidding. She was on the list of approved shrinks with the FoP. She was about the closest one to District. Jay was sure she had cops parade through her office and give her the same line. And maybe she thought it was funny – or stupid. But she was laughing all the way to the bank.

So he just settled his elbows on his knees and stared straight ahead. Looked across the room at the clock and waited. But she could feel him staring at him as he stared at the clock.

"We're booked for an hour," she told him after the hand had so fucking slowly crept its way around the thing five times.

He gave her a glance – and looked back to the clock hands. "So … if there's nothing I want to talk about … can we …," he nodded at the clock.

And she smiled. "Unfortunately, not if you want me to sign off us spending an hour together. I'll still have to bill for the hour, of course. But, I'm afraid I'd have to note that we were only together for …" she gave the clock a glance. "I'm willing to put down ten minutes."

Jay sighed and stared at the Kleenex box sitting on that coffee table. Fucking infuser wicks there too. To lull you into relaxation with the fucking disgusting smells – which, you know, maybe she should consider for a fucking moment might be triggering. In so many fucking ways. Smells. Major memory trigger. Those smells – incense and that sort of things a lot of them brought him back to – not things he wanted to be teetering toward while sitting in a shrink's office with a box of tissue waiting for him to start bawling. Glared at them too.

But then he looked at her. And tried to put on an apologetic face. "I've just got some things on the go today. And I … just would really prefer to get back to them. As soon as possible."

She made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Busy day at the office?"

She knew he was a cop. And Jay briefly thought about agreeing with that. That he could use it as an out. Just say something was popping and see if she'd let him go.

But that's not what came out of his mouth. Because he wasn't great at lying. He might not be good at expressing emotions. But he also wasn't good on trying to make them up either. Maybe that's why U.C. seemed to bite him in the ass so much lately. Because too many of his faculties were down as it was to put up the front. To craft those story details and to keep the cover.

And maybe that was part of the reason it was so fucking hard … it was fucking with him so much … that Camilla had to go and say that his cover was him and he wasn't him. To act like him tugging some beers with her and getting her brother killed – watching him die and not being able to protect him or save him in that moment – or him picking intel off her gave her any kind of insight about who he really was. She was just a mark. A fucking target. He'd done his job. He hadn't done his job well. But he'd done his job. And maybe … maybe he had fucking needed an excuse to be somewhere that wasn't the townhouse and to be drinking more alcohol than he should be and to be doing something rather than staying up all night staring at the ceiling and talking himself out of turning on the Xbox and playing those games that he'd promised Erin he wouldn't play. And he'd made a bad choice. He'd made a fucking bad choice about how to fill his time. He'd used the job as an excuse to … go deeper into a hole to try to avoid other kind of holes that would've been worse … for his relationship.

But that wasn't him. What Camilla had seen wasn't him. He knew that. Or he thought he knew that. But now he kept running that through his head. Because he'd created a cover that let him be his former self in a whole lot of ways. And he didn't like that either. And if he was able to become that former self so convincingly that Camilla thought that was real and he – the cop, the fiancée, the pending father, the good fucking guy – was fake … he didn't know what that said about him.

It was worse because she'd said it to Hailey. She'd said it to Hailey and she must've seen some kind of truth in the statement because she'd gone and said what she said to Voight. And Voight must've seen some kind of truth in it too because he'd sent him to sit here on this couch. And maybe even Erin – Erin – fucking believed it was true too. Because she wasn't pissed off about Hank doing the overprotective father thing. She wasn't telling him that he didn't get to step over into their personal life. Instead she was telling Jay that she wanted him here too. On this fucking couch with this fucking … coy woman.

And what did that say about who he was now and who he'd always been and what he'd become and what he was and wasn't. If he was that guy or the good guy. And who the fuck was this guy. Now.

He didn't know who he was.

But he knew himself well enough to know that he didn't excel at lying. Maybe repressing. But not outright lying. Not in his real life. Not with who he was or who he wanted to be when he wasn't putting on a cover.

But that was the point. That was the question. Was he always just putting on a cover? Or finding one?

That the job was a cover. That Erin was a cover. And now him being a father would be a new one. To be that guy. To be that good guy.

And maybe that wasn't him.

But maybe he'd … try again to make it sound like it was him. He'd pull up that cover some more. And see if he could get this therapist to buy it. Because maybe if she bought it – maybe it was true. And Jay wanted it to be true. Because that's the kind of person he wanted to be. That he fucking needed to be.

Not that guy. That guy.

"I'm on furlough," he put flatly.

"Oh," Sloane made another face at him. "That's nice. Before the holidays?"

Jay shrugged. And he saw her measure that again.

"It just seems like a lot of people take a few days off between Christmas and the New Year if they can. But I can see how taking them before the holidays might be … helpful," she suggested and gestured at him.

He gave her a glance and then locked eyes with her. Because he was trying to read what that meant. How much she was allowed to dig up about him. To know why he was there. Or who he was. Really. Or why he hated Christmas. Or he had. It hadn't been so bad the past few years. With Erin. And her family. With having two kids around to … focus on that. Eth and Henry.

"Meaning?" he pressed at her.

And that fucking dismissive smile set on her lips again. "I just meant it can be a busy and emotional time of year for a lot of people, Jay," she said evenly and folded her hands back on her knee.

And she just kept his eyes too. Until he was the one who decided to look away. Because he knew he'd given her a tell and he also knew he'd been rude – again – and as much as he normally wouldn't care, there were two factors going on here: 1) She was a woman and she was just doing her job; 2) As part of her job he needed her to fucking sign off on his paperwork that said he didn't need to be here anymore.

"So … what have you been up to with your furlough?" she tried after the silence hung there and he stared at the coffee table's contents again.

"My … fiancée," he decided on though he knew it'd let that hung there for too long and Sloane would've noted that too.

It was just his default with Erin always seemed to be 'partner'. And in so many ways that's what he still wanted her to be – both a job and just since he couldn't have that he knew he really needed her to be that in his life. Especially now. He needed to be her partner in all of this and he needed her to be his. But 'partner' would've just lead to asking him to define that – in case he was taking about work. Or to just generally try to nudge him toward talking about his relationship. And talking about that – that's why he couldn't use girlfriend either. Because if he used girlfriend and then they got to the point of talking about them actually being engaged and Erin being pregnant – that'd tell this woman a whole lot too. And there'd be more questions or more notes about what term he used for Erin and why. So be specific. Fiancée. It was what Erin was. Right now. Even though she was a lot more than that to him too – right now.

He exhaled and sat up a bit straighter looking at her again. "So how does this work? If I use names? Are you sitting there piecing together who I'm talking about and sending off notes … where?"

Sloane kept his eyes and there wasn't a smile that time. That time there was this little look in her eyes. Like she thought she was making progress. Had made some sort of breakthrough with him being willing to ask that. And Jay wasn't sure he liked that either.

"If you feel comfortable with using names, then yes, I will likely note them. Only so I'm clear on who we're talking about," she said.

"And if you know who I'm talking about?" Jay pressed at her again.

That got that thin smile. "Your fiancée is a cop as well?" she asked. And Jay just kept her eyes. "If something comes up that I feel is a conflict of interest – I'll stop our session and you'd be offered the opportunity to meet with another therapist in our practice."

His eyes stayed on her still. And she smoothed the material creased at the knee of her pants passively. "Jay, we do have a lot of police come through this practice. HMO. Near a Chicago PD District. But I don't compare notes between clients and I don't compare notes in that way with other practitioners in this building. The most we talk about is what sort of services or additionally training we could get to help more of our clients. However, again, if you do say something to me that presents itself as a conflict of interest for me," she shrugged, "I'll refer you to someone else."

His eyes drifted a bit and set on the geometric structure sitting behind her. He stared at that instead.

"You're concerned a family member or colleague might also be among my patients," she put out her.

He moved his eyes back to her. "Where do your records go?"

She gestured back toward the filing cabinets be her desk and his eyes shifted. "On the day I'm seeing you," she said. "And then we have a secure onsite facility where we keep patient records outside of our sessions."

"What do you have to tell … whoever you have to tell … about this?" he asked.

Her arms went back to their rests. "The number of hours we've had together and that you've completed the recommended program."

"And what's that? How long?" he asked.

She allowed a little shrug. "Depending on how this goes – eight to twenty weeks. Assuming we actively work together here for at least fifty minutes each session, and that you're putting in the work outside of our sessions too."

Jay looked down at his clutched hands. He didn't doubt that this woman would stretch this out the full twenty weeks. Twenty weeks. Erin would be thirty-four or thirty-five weeks at that point. The babies could be here.

"So you were saying something," Sloane pressed. "About your time off and your fiancée? About why you're in such a hurry to get through these sixty minutes and on your way?"

Jay exhaled again and sat up to look her in the eye. "My fiancée, Erin, she's working in New York right now."

"That must be challenging," Sloane offered. Jay eyed her but didn't bite. "You didn't note on your intake forms that you're engaged."

He kept her eyes at that. "It asked if I was single or married."

"It also had several other options," Sloane provided.

"Engaged wasn't on the list," he said.

"'Other'," she said flatly.

Jay only shrugged at her. Really should go for clarity there. Because could be a whole lot of 'other': civil union, long-term relationship, divorced, widowed. Other really didn't cut it if a shrink was trying to learn something about you from some paperwork and wanted any kind of clarity before you sat down in there.

She nodded and glanced at the form. Jay knew he'd left the line pertaining to his relationship – what it was, how long he'd been in it, her name – blank. Just like he'd left a lot of other lines blank. Including what he wanted to get out of this. Because he didn't know what the fuck he wanted to get out of this. What his goal was.

But she didn't give any other comment. And he watched her jot down Erin's name and he assumed fill in that he was engaged. And then she looked back up at him.

He waited a beat. Like she was supposed to say more. Like if he waited long enough she would say more. Like she'd order him to continue and he could put up a little show to not to. But she must've seen that trick before because she just waited for him.

"So I flew out to New York," he provided, "and spent a few days with her. And then we drove back. Wednesday night. Through the storms. To get home for her kid brother's Christmas concert. So that was last night. And today, we have him today."

"No school?"

"He's sick," Jay put flatly.

"That nasty cold that's going around for the holidays?" she offered. Only Jay knew it wasn't.

"No sick," he pressed and kept her eyes.

Because he didn't think he wanted to talk about that either. Not about Eth. Because that Jay – that whole fucking month – it'd really driven in for him how much he'd failed Eth that fall too. And it wasn't like the kid was rubbing it in his face or holding it over him. It was just little fucking things. Little fucking things that had turned into a big fucking smack in the face. A reality check. Stuff he'd missed and ways he'd let him down. That he'd made things harder and worse for the kid when the kid was already going through a hard time.

But that was the other thing. Eth … had become so much of a trigger for him. It sent him thinking about his own teen years and what had happened. It sent him thinking about his mom and what he'd missed and how much he missed her. And health and life and death. And watching someone die. Slowly. No matter what kind of fight they are putting up.

That's … hard work. And it doesn't matter how you romanticize it with phrases like 'hero' or 'survivor' or 'long battle'. It's not fucking romantic. It's … awful. And it changes you – and the way you look at the world and life and death – when you have to watch someone you care about go through that kind of struggle and pain. And then for it to end the way you always knew it would. To hear the awful things that came out of their mouth in their pain and frustration. And to say the awful things you said and do in your own. To fucking test patience and love and commitment in a way that most people don't know until far later in their lives. Or some don't ever have to go through. And it all just cares this level of guilt. About things you do and things you didn't do. And how no matter what you fail – because they're gone. And you're not. You're still there.

And it was hard enough going through that with an adult – watching your mother go through it. But with a child? It was different. And it was bringing up too much.

Too much and then wrapped into this other pain and guilt. Because now Eth was carrying something Jay knew too much about too. And Jay felt like he should've seen the signs more and saved the kid from it getting as bad as it did. What had happened to him. And what those kids had put him through. And now pictures floating somewhere in cyberspace. And who know what kind of perverts who deserved a special ring in hell were looking at them. And he should've been able to stop that from happening. To stop it now – to find the photos and the people who'd looked at them. Gotten off on them. To have a system that did something to the kids who'd gotten off on putting Eth through that and getting those photos out there. But instead these rich, white, powerful assholes just got shuffled to another school with more rich, white, powerful people. Like that was any sort of punishment or justice.

And Jay worried if he hadn't seen it with Eth – how would he see it with his own kids? With his son? With his daughter? Ethan had people around him. A good group of people around him – who had some reach – and it had still happened. He still had to carry that with him.

It was just too many things to think about right now. Too many triggers. And his relationship with Erin and where he was at. How he was there days – this fall. Jay didn't want Eth to see him like that. He didn't want the kid to get to know that guy. So he'd fallen away. And now that was something else he had to repair. Though, the kid was letting him. But … Jay felt like he was still figuring out how to even let him. To make it up to him. And like maybe figuring it out would get him closer to maybe figuring out how to be a father too.

Sloane just nodded, though. "So what was it that you were up to today that you need to get back to?"

Jay sighed and sat back a bit at that and stared at her. "It's going to sound … like a really weak excuse."

"Try me," she said. "I think family time can be a pretty good excuse."

He exhaled and set his eyes on that geometric structure again. "Eth, Ethan, Erin's kid's brother," he allowed.

Sloane nodded and jotted that down quickly. "How old is Ethan?"

"Fourteen," Jay allowed. "And … he loves Christmas." Jay let his eyes drift to her and she allowed him a thinner smile. One that actually looked a bit more like one bordering on sincere. "It's more he loves traditions. So, he wanted to watch the Home Alone movies. He watches it with Erin. Every year. Usually only the first one. But we had to watch both this morning – because 'lost in New York'."

Sloane allowed him a small smile at that. And Jay let a thin one settle on his lips too and looked back to his hands. He wringer them a bit that time.

"This fall – work and Erin away – I haven't been around as much for him. So it was sort of like playing catch-up. And …" he looked at her. "He's a patient over a RIC. The new Ability Lab." She allowed him a little nod of acknowledgement. "He's … over there a lot of afternoons for the tutoring for the … kids who have a lot of medical appointments."

"Okay …," Sloane acknowledged.

"They're putting together a Rube Goldberg team for the kids there. For this year's challenge. And he's just … he's so fucking … sorry," he muttered. "He's just into that stuff. He's into … a lot of things. But engineering and science. His mind just works that way. So he was going on about that. Their ideas and just … some of the off the wall stuff that these RIC kids have in their everyday life that they can turn into the extraordinary for this contest."

He looked at her and she gave him another small smile. He gestured at her sculpture.

"That had me thinking about it again. About him," he allowed.

She glanced behind her shoulder at it and gave him another little smile. "Very expensive K'nex," she provided. He allowed her a softer look for that effort. "I think I can understand the appeal of getting back to continue that conversation," she allowed.

Jay let himself sit back. "Erin … dropped me off here. She was going to pick up her nephew. Take both the kids to pick up ingredients of mince pie. I made the mistake of telling Eth that that was a tradition in my house growing up – so now we've got to try to make it. It's going to be a fucking disaster." Sloane smiled at him but he shook his head. "Sorry," he allowed again. "So … I guess I want to be there for the disaster. And just to spend time with Erin while she's home. You know?" Sloane allowed a little nod at that. "And, we told her dad we'd do dinner tonight. So, you know…"

"Well, you'll be out of here and headed back to them by two-fifteen," she offered. "Not that long."

"Yea …," Jay allowed but glanced at the clock. It felt like its hands had hardly moved. At all. Though, Jay also felt like he'd moved. A little. He'd given in a bit. He'd given her something to work with. And she did.

"It sounds like you're close with her family," Sloane said.

"Yea …," he managed. It was a truth. One that he was still grappling with. One that he didn't have any illusions about the fact he'd be grappling with for the whole pregnancy and maybe his entire fatherhood.

"What about your family?" she asked.

He exhaled and gazed at her. And they sat like that for a while. She had the art of an uncomfortable silence as a prompt down. And Jay had never been good at that. Even in the interrogation room he knew he often jumped to rephrase or hit them with something else too soon.

And as much as he wanted to stay silent – as much as he wanted to sit there and just watch the clock tick down – he also just wanted to get out of here. All of here. The here that had gotten him here. Because that here – that person he'd become – it was pretty fucking uncomfortable too.

"We're like three days before Christmas," Jay put to her. "And there's just … stuff I don't want to get into right now. There's just … enough right now. Without dragging up … a whole lot of other stuff."

Sloane nodded. "Christmas – the holidays – can be a challenging time for a lot of people."

He glared at her a little. "My mother died December twenty-sixth."

Sloane gave him a muted expression. Not a frown. But there was some kind of sympathy in it. At attempt at empathy.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she offered. "I'm sure that's really changed the holidays for your family."

Jay sagged his head a bit.

"Will you be splitting time over the next few days between your family and Erin's family?" she pressed.

Jay cast her a look. His immediate response was 'no'. But that wasn't entirely true either. Or it might not be. He didn't know. That was sort of up to him. But he also felt like it wasn't.

"Erin's pregnant," he allowed.

And he saw Sloane adjust herself a bit at that reveal. He waited a beat because he fully expected her to ask how he felt about that. And he fully wanted to spit at her 'how am I supposed to feel about that?' Because he knew how society wanted him to feel about it. But he didn't think he felt that way. He didn't know what he felt. Excited and terrified and overwhelmed and a like a failure and guilty and happy and confused. Just fucking confused. And he didn't think any of that was supposed to be exactly how he felt. But the shrink didn't say a thing.

"We told her dad last night," he said. "And she's planning on telling her sister-in-law today. And we're supposed to tell Ethan together tomorrow. And she thinks I should tell my family while she's home this trip too."

"And how do you feel about that?" Sloane asked then.

Maybe it was more appropriate timing. But Jay also thought the fact he was even bringing it up said exactly how he felt about it. But he also didn't know how he felt about it. It was another mixed mess of emotions and confusion he was struggling to deal with.

He stared at her, though. He stared at her and that geometric sculpture off over her shoulder.

"I feel like I look at her dad and I look at my dad. And I think in some ways, they came from similar backgrounds. Some similar life events they had to deal with. And somehow my dad became my dad."

And Jay wanted to know what that meant. What that meant for who he was and what he'd become. What sort of hope that had for him as a father. What kind of father he'd become.

And even though in some ways he felt doubly blessed – or he thought that's the way he was supposed to feel about all this and maybe it was even the way he did feel about all this sometimes – he also just felt doubly fucked. Because now … it wasn't just that he had to figure out how to be a father. He had to figure out how to be a father times two. He had to figure out how to be a father to a son. And how to be a father to a daughter. And he didn't think he really knew how to be either of those things.

And he just didn't want to become his father. He couldn't become his father. But he was the man who raised him. He was the example he had.

And he didn't want that example.

He kept looking at Voight and thinking that was the example he wanted. Even though there were parts of Voight he didn't want. Because Hank was Hank. But no matter how you fucking cut it – he had a relationship with his family. He had a relationship with his kids.

And Jay – and his dad? That relationship was non-existent. It'd always been non-existent.

But Jay also knew that the example Hank gave – he was the guy who raised Erin. And when Jay imagined a father – and what a father was supposed to be – it was Hank.

And Jay didn't know if he could be Hank. He looked at how Hank was dealing with some of this shit. How he'd dealt with all this shit. All his losses and the job and raising a family and a sick, slowly dying kid at home. And he dealt. He just fucking dealt. Even in his fuck ups – he dealt.

And Jay wasn't sure if he could deal with it that way. Or that well. Not with the example he'd had. Even though he'd spent his twenties – his thirties – trying to make sure he didn't become his father. He wondered if … if he'd slipped back and he was becoming him. If eventually he was going to look into the mirror and that was going to be what – who – was looking back. And his kids … his son and daughter … wouldn't want to talk to him either.

If he fucked it up the way his dad had. If he didn't give a shit the way his dad had. The way he still did.

"It sounds like you have some things you want to talk about," was all Sloane put back to him.

Jay stared at her again. "Erin wants me to come to this. She wants me to take it seriously. And her dad – he pretty much signed off on it. And my partner – at work – she thinks I need this too. So what should I think about any of that? What does that fucking say about how any of them think of me? As a man?"

And Sloane just kept his eyes. "I think it likely says that you're a man they care very much about and want you to be your best self. And sometimes we all need help taking care of ourselves and loving ourselves in that way."

Jay sighed at her and went back to staring at his hands and the coffee table and the Kleenex. And listening to that clock fucking tick.

Tick-tock. Went the cock. The clock swallowed by the fucking crocodile that he felt like was sneaking up on him. Because he'd dropped his guard. And the damn thing had gotten a piece of him. A piece of his hand. Or his soul. Or his heart. Or his mind. That its teeth and claws and whipping tail had scarred him. And now he had those fucking phantom pains. The phantom limb. Parts of him elsewhere that just kept creeping back into his life and scaring the shit out of him over and over again. Scaring him more that he didn't know how to deal with them. And he fucked them up when he tried.

Time just ticking by.

"The babies," Jay said and shifted his eyes back to Sloane. "The twins. They could be here in twenty weeks."

And she just looked at him again. A softer look at that.

"Erin wants me to … work on … some of this," he said and gestured absently at himself. Because he didn't know how else to put it. What words to assign to it. What bite to take. But he knew he'd rather be the one biting the elephant than the crocodile catching up and biting him again – taking out another piece of him. "And, I guess I do too. Because … I'm not going to be my father."

And Sloane just looked at him. Looked at him and allowed him a thin smile.

"It seems like you're ready to talk," she said.

And Jay carefully let himself nod. Barely. But "Yea," he allowed. "I am."

He had to be. He needed to be.

So he would.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **I'm not sure that I'm going to do the Erin/Ethan/Platt chapter that I'd floated.**

 **Think I'm going to jump to a Hank/Jay chapter (with Erin, Ethan and Henry appearances). And then go to the Ethan chapter people have been waiting for.**

 **Your readership, comments, feedback and reviews are appreciated.**


	29. Looking Up

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

"You forget your key?"

That's what he got out of Erin's mouth as she pulled open the backdoor for him. Shit-eating grin all over her face. His girl still thought that smile had him wrapped around her baby finger. She was right. To a point. Though, might not work as well much longer. She was going to have some competition on using that smile of hers to get her way – times two. And didn't doubt for a minute that the little guys – guy and girl – she'd be bringing into the world – into the family – would figure out how to work that grin just as quick as she did with him. Didn't take long.

But Hank only patted her cheek and gave her a look right back. "Kiddo, few months out – all that sass is going to be biting you in the ass."

Sure would. Times two there too. And she likely didn't even know the half of it. Maybe not the quarter of it, in this case. Maybe she thought she did. But you don't know until you've got them there. You really don't.

She was going to have fun. Knew that much. Only had to hope that it was actual fun. Not a fucking mess. Still working on feeling that out. Trying to get a handle on where all this was headed. Hoping hard that this wasn't just another exercise of her and Halstead playing house. Or just keeping on playing. Not ready to stop even now. Though, maybe if you played house long enough, it just turned into the reality it needed to be. Supposed that's what family and marriage was for a lot of people. Just wasn't what he wanted for Erin or these grandkids that were in the offing. All three of them deserved better than that.

Jay did too. But thought the guy might be too far down a hole – or have his head shoved too far up his own asshole – to see it quite that way right now. To respect himself enough to know that he deserved what was coming and what he had right now too. Take the good with the bad. The kid was focusing too much on the bad these days. Letting it eat him up alive. Can't do that. Not on the job. Not when you've got a good woman at home. Not when you've got kiddos on the way. Got to shut the barn doors. That too practice and concentrated effort, though. Maybe he needed some coaching and fucking permission to put the time into doing that too.

"Where the boys at?" Hank put to his girl, as she allowed him another one of those smiles. A better one. Not the shit-eating one. One he'd earned on his own. Liked those ones a lot more.

He scoped out the … didn't know what they called it right now. Jay's fucking crash pad. But figured – if she came back to the city, if that was the plan and this house was still part of that plan – that by mid-year it'd be more getting the label of the 'family room'. And sure looked like it'd been cleaned up real well since he'd dropped in on Jay a week ago. Fucking dumpster dive in that drop-in. Clean now but no signs of life.

Erin gestured up the steps. Fucking townhouse. Modernized crap. Give you the same amount of limited floor space but housing developers seemed set on jamming as many people as possible into a block as they could. So these narrow fucking buildings and each floor having two rooms on them if you were lucky. Dumb.

It'd be a mixed bag if Erin's – Jay's, their – plan was for her to be back in Chicago when the babies arrived. Knew that they'd be cursing themselves about getting a place with that many steps. There'd be a whole lot of up and down and up and down going on. Be even more fun if they were still in this place when the kids were mobile. And dealing with getting through fucking baby gates. And then toddlers all over the house after they were managing the stairs and walking and wanting to do their own thing. Headache.

But Hank was also feeling glad they had the townhouse. Good amount of space for when they had two kids on the way. Good amount of space for raising a couple kids. Sure they'd end up appreciating having this downstairs space and the living room space up the stairs that Erin was gesturing. Room to play and grow and be together.

But he also didn't have a handle on where the plans were at with that either. Any of it. Chicago, New York. Keeping the townhouse or selling. Looking somewhere else or for something different. Them staying a couple or getting married or doing this as some sort of … modernized raising kids together but apart crap that he wasn't going to pretend he understood. Wouldn't say he approved of it. But he'd do his best to support Erin – and the grandkids – in whatever it was that she was sorting out for herself. And he'd just have to fucking hope that Jay was the kind of man he knew he was. So it was more he was going to have to maybe give the guy some kicks in the ass so he'd realize the kind of man he was. Stop fucking questioning it or doing some kind of pity party or wherever the fuck his head was at these days. At work. At home. He was a yo-yo.

Hank just hummed at her. "They distracted?"

Erin shrugged. "Ethan's passed out. Henry was pretty screen-zombied. He didn't react to you knocking. Pounding," she corrected. "On the door."

Hank grunted at that. Needed to get their attention. Another problem in that house. Could be a whole lot of steps and floors away from the door.

"Why?" Erin put to him, gesturing for him to come in so she could shut the door and likely try to keep the heating bill a bit more reasonable.

But Hank didn't move. Just gestured on his own back to where he'd legally parked the Escalade flush against the back of their neighbors brick wall. Those folks had stopped complaining about people parking where they weren't supposed to after they realized Jay and Erin were the police. Not much point in calling the police over a fucking parking ticket. Besides, he'd move the thing in a few.

"Olive had me swing by Santa's workshop," he said. Erin's brow creased and he gestured for her to follow him over. "Costco," he provided. "That Hot Wheels bundle. For the boys."

He popped the hatch for her and pretty much watched her eyes pop too. His eyes had done about the same when he'd gone to find the thing. Made the mistake of bypassing the cart. Navigating the thing in that fucking place at that time of year – really any fucking time of year – was a giant waste of time. Didn't have the patience for it. But got down the toy aisle to realize that'd been a fucking mistake.

Bundle was bordering on ridiculously massive. A whole lot more than what he would've gotten for their pooled Santa dollars if he'd just gone into the Walmart or Target or Toys R Us to grab some cars and track for the boys. It was a good spot by Olive. Wasn't sure how she'd found out about it. Wasn't much of a Costco shopper. Didn't blame her there. Though, should likely add it to the list of things to work at getting Erin thinking about. Bulk diapers alone would likely make the membership worth her while. Not to mention bundles like this at Christmastime.

"Bit of an eyesore to be putting anywhere at home that Magoo won't spot."

"Ah … yea …," Erin acknowledged and shook her head out of it. "Umm … did you want to put it in the garage?"

Hank grunted and started to pull it out. "One thing in it, Olive wants put together."

"Okay," she acknowledged and reached in to help him with the haul. "So tell us what. We can get that done."

"Nearly feeding time?" Hank asked.

She shook her head. "But thrown in the oven a bit late. Likely about an hour more."

He nodded and nudged her gently aside, as he righted the box to get it on his knee and then hauled up. Good weight and heft to the thing. Didn't need her thinking she was going to Rambo when she was pushing four months pregnant and carrying twins. He got a real look at that. But she better get used to it. Wasn't like she was huge yet but she was showing and showing more than he remembered Camille – or most other pregnant women he'd encountered over the years – when they were in that three-four month period. Figured those growing grandkids would have her looking pretty visibly pregnant in short order and she'd be getting a lot of doors held open for her and things carried for and seats given up for her – and looks if she was doing something that the general population didn't think was too appropriate for a woman who looked more like she was in her third trimester than one in her second. Likely a real good thing in a way that she was on a desk job and he wasn't having to play boss and father while she was going through this. And in the meantime, she could fucking get used to him not letting her do unnecessary heavy lifting when she was already carrying his grandbabies and had a whole lot of other more pertinent heavy lifting to be working on in her personal life than carrying some damn box of toy cars and plastic orange track.

"Boys really checked out, can get started on it with Jay before chow time," he told her.

She gave him another look but didn't argue. Though, she did go to open the damn garage door. And he gave her a look.

"Twenty degrees out. Not freezing my balls off for either of those little jokers."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. She seemed to think that whatever faces her and Jay thought his grandson was making was Jay's genetics kicking in already. Hank wasn't so sure about that. Two of them – all eyebrows.

"You do it inside and they might end up thinking Santa came early," she said.

He just shrugged as he juggled the thing secure under his arm – best he could. "Do it upstairs," he nodded.

She huffed a bit at him. Gave him that look like he was playing with fire. But thought he knew his son and grandson pretty good. Did a lot more late-afternoon zombies with them than her lately. If E was really passed out and they had some fucking Pixar movie on for Henry – he wouldn't even warrant a look from either of them.

Look he gave back must've conveyed that and she headed back into the house. Didn't try to argue with him about helping carry the box either. Didn't get some comment about him being the over-protective father and that might've been okay when she was a teenager but that she wasn't interested in it now. But he didn't really care. Whether she liked it or not, they'd entered another stage in their relationship. In a father-daughter relationship. One he'd been waiting for. One he'd had lots of times he didn't think he'd get to – between her career and her baggage and her Bunny issues and her relationship issues. One he thought he might've fucked up the opportunity of getting to be a part of after Justin and then after that spring too. But family. Apparently he'd raised her well enough she got it. Maybe she'd got it more than she ever really wanted to or he ever really needed her to. But she got it. And if she thought he'd been over-protective as a father – with her as the daughter he got to raise – just wait until she saw that translated into the grandkids she was giving him. Into a little girl that he'd get to hold on Day One and watch grow up and hopefully get to have some hand in helping raise. She didn't know what overprotective looked like. Not yet.

For now, though, one look she did need to know was he wasn't going to look like a fucking jagoff getting this thing inside. Wasn't so big as it needed them to look like some sort of clown show hauling it up the stairs.

"Smells good in here," he commented as he really did get in the door and she got it shut. Peace offering for her humoring him on what he would and wouldn't let his pregnant daughter get away when he was within her radius. And, really, as much as he was a little glad he wasn't going to have to figure out the personal and professional balance of having his pregnant daughter in his unit – and just how not to piss her off with desk duty or shuffling her out – he sort of would've preferred she was a little more in his regular radius during all of this. That if she was going to look at him like he was being over-protective than at least have her close enough that there was regular reason (in her mind) that he deserved to get that look.

"Oven ribs," she allowed. "Collard greens, coleslaw and sweet potato hash. As per Jay. Only I guess now as per me, if you're getting him to help you with …" she gestured absently at the box as they went up the stairs. "So don't expect the sides to smell as good when I get them going."

"Sure they'll be fine," he said.

She was also so self-depreciating when it came to her cooking. And a lot of other things. Another habit she'd have to work on breaking before the babies got there. Especially with a little girl. Neither of the kids needed to hear their mother talking about herself that way. But worse to have a little girl growing up learning to think about herself – and the skills and talents she did have – that way.

"Jay …," she called across the room in a soft even tone as they got to the top of the stairs.

Hank kept just in the stairwell in case the kids had stirred and decided they were going to notice his presence. But they hadn't.

E was taking up the whole couch and beyond passed out. It was clear they'd put him down for one of his "not naps". Real pillow from the bedroom was under his head and full-sized blankets piled on top of him. Looked pretty dead to the world.

And H didn't give him even a first-glance either. Fucking Rudolph was up on the screen. At least it was a change of pace from the endless stream of Cars and Thomas the Tank Engine and Planes and Paw Patrol that was usually a necessity at some point in grandbaby-sitting duty with the kid if he was going to have him for more than about three hours. About the only way to get him to sit still and shut up in 20 minute intervals. But, Hank was about ready for the holiday season flip-over to get fucking Rudolph off the screen too. Was pretty sure he could recite the thing at this point.

Funny, though. That was Justin in there, he thought. Because sure remembered J loving that one too. Had it taped off the TV on a VHS that the kid had worn out from having to rewind and watch it too many times. Remembered that. There'd been a meltdown. A major fucking meltdown. And it'd been a year with a whole lot of snow. Blizzard conditions like in the fucking TV special. The one where Santa almost had to cancel Christmas. Yeah, well, what Santa had ended up doing that year was sending the family their Christmas present early. New fucking VHS machine – when really should've likely held off on buying that dated technology and waiting on DVD players becoming more affordable – and the fucking special on its own exclusive, store-bought videotape. Likely still had that in a box. Though, didn't have anything to play it on anymore. Al likely did.

Wondered if J would remember that Christmas. Thought so. Had been pretty exciting stuff at the time getting a letter and package from Santa early. But then sometimes it seemed like Justin had forgotten more of the happy times and happy memories after his mom was gone. His got knocked out of him in a different way and for different reasons than Magoo's had. But still seemed like a lot of them had disappeared.

Still, could hope that if J was there, he'd want to be sitting there with H watching that movie over and over again. That he'd remember doing it – with him, with his mom – as a little boy too. As it was, though, it was Jay who was sitting with Henry. And H was just sprawled right in his lap, transfixed by the screen.

It was strange watching Henry. He knew that his grandson was too young to know what happened to his dad. But in other ways, Hank knew the little guy knew. H knew that his dad was gone. And knew that there was this piece of his life missing. Could see too that he was already – just aware that he was supposed to have men and male role models in his life. Hank could see it and feel it with how H interacted with him. Even with E. But he'd been watching since the summer how the kid was seeking something out from Jay too.

Had seen it in a bunch of their interactions. H would seek out Jay's attention. Get up into his lap. Try to get him to play. And a lot of the time – even when Jay was looking real out to lunch – the man humored H. Sometimes it even seemed to pull him out of his funk. Funny how kids worked on you that way. Funny too how comfortable H seemed with Jay. Wasn't sure how much J would like that. Or how Olive felt about it. Sometimes Hank wasn't even sure how he felt about it. But did know he was glad that H had some male role models in his life. Glad he had family in his life. Didn't have his dad. But at least he had that.

Halstead seemed reluctant to pull his eyes away from the screen too when Erin called at him. Like he hadn't caught that special on CBS every year of his life growing up. Like it was about the first time he was having to endure the red-nosed reindeer and was actually absorbed in the story of the misfits. Or maybe the guy was doing another one of his pity-party moments that he'd only end up apologizing for. But was sitting there thinking he could relate in that moment.

Still, he managed to look over.

"Hank wants to take something upstairs," Erin provided.

Jay glanced at him but only nodded and started to shift his eyes back to the TV.

"So, help," Erin put to him a little more bluntly.

Jay's eyes came back at that and actually seemed to take in the box that time. Actually met eyes with him. Figured he'd detectived out what was in the damn thing. Wasn't plastered with the contents but the blue and orange on the side would give it away to a good chunk of the male population, Hank figured. At least he hoped the man had grown up with some kind of diecasts kicking around the house floor for his mom to nearly break her neck on. Though, if he was staring at Rudolph like he'd never seen it before, had to wonder if the family spent much cash on things like toys either.

The guy did juggle Henry off his lap, though, that time. Little boy's eyes didn't even leave the screen. Just flopped off and curled into the chair he got to claim as his own as Jay came over to him.

"Where do you want me to put it?" Jay asked Erin as he treaded by the kitchen.

Erin just shrugged. "Sort it out," she provided dismissively with a look both their ways.

And Hank just grunted at him and nodded up the next flight of stairs around the corner. Sort it out was right. Figured there was a lot of that going on with everyone lately. And figured maybe a conversation with Jay here might at least be a good start in him getting more of a handle on what was going on. And maybe he could manage to nudge Jay in the direction he really hoped the guy wanted to be going too.

"Want me to take that," Jay offered.

Hank didn't much need to be treated like a grandpa that way. But wasn't going to turn down the offer. Because that was the guy Hank knew Jay was. The guy that offered to – and was ready to – carry a load. For the better good. For people other than himself. And, if handing off the box to the guy was a step toward helping the man figure that out – he'd hand it over.

"Sure," he grunted.

Because that was the other thing about being the parent of adult kids – adult kids about to have their own kids, to be parents themselves – you had to step back. Let them figure it out. Let them make their mistakes. Had to let them do things their way.

But you still had to be there. Be there for them. Didn't matter how old they got – it was the most important thing. And carrying the load –his share of the load or more – that'd help Jay get there – stay there – too. The weight of family. Heavy. But sometimes that weight of responsibility wasn't such a bad thing.

Not for men like Jay. Not for men like Hank. It kept you weighed down enough you didn't go running away. And it gave you some direction. In this case – up. Had to believe that. Even in the bad times, eventually things are going to go up.

So up they went.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **So next chapter will be a continuation of this scene. It will likely still be from Hank's POV. But no matter if it's Hank's or Jay's it will be dialogue heavy.**

 **Thanks for your readership, comments and feedback.**


	30. Boss' Orders

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Jay stood staring at the Hot Wheels box. Seemed a little boggled by it. But Hank was more checking out the state of the room they were in. It wasn't often he was invited up into that area of the house. Was fine with that. Didn't have much reason to be poking around their sleeping space.

But was interested in seeing the space this time. Give himself a bit of a reminder and self-check of the layout of things. Presently. To come.

The third floor of the damn four-storey thing the two of them had gone buying. The extra bedrooms. Not the master. Fine not seeing that. Would prefer their bedroom business stay more their personal business than it was. Knew more about it than he needed to or wanted to already.

Looking at it again, though – thinking the same thing as when he'd first gotten to see the place. That if they were still here when the kids arrived, wasn't sure how great the sleeping arrangements would be. Sort of suspected that these two rooms across from each other – one was going to become the makeshift master for a good number of months or couple years while the kids were little.

Wouldn't want to be sleeping on a separate floor from the babies and going up and down those extra stairs in the middle of the night. Or dealing with that first-time parent anxiety that you somehow aren't going to hear your kid's wailing or realize something was wrong.

Never seemed to quite work that way in his experience. You knew. Human parent – parental brain – just hardwired that way. You knew when your kids needed you. Because you knew your kids. And even when they were all grown-up, if you still put in the effort in to know them – you still knew too when something was wrong even when they were way off in their own living situation, living their own lives and not telling you what was going on. You could still sense something was up. Still checked on them as much as you could or would let you.

Something you had to work on, though. Had to start when they were little. So they knew they could talk to you and reach out to you. Had to work on making sure you were present too. And seeing and listening to the cues that were there. So you didn't miss them.

It was actually easier when they were little. When they were babies. Wasn't much doubt you'd hear them crying and have them reaching out for you. Harder when they got bigger and the reaching out was more them pushing you away. Then it had to be you always reaching out to pull them back. Give them that hug. Hold them close. Even if they only humored you for a few seconds at a time anymore.

But knew it took a while for you to realize that's how it all worked. This would be Erin and Jay's first time around. So didn't doubt that that full-'floor' master they had upstairs – it wouldn't be getting used much for a good while. It'd be this floor that would become the sleeping arrangement.

And maybe when they realized that – experienced it a bit – they'd stop giving him shit about the sleeping arrangements he had going on at his house too. Might be sure to point that out to them too.

But considering what this space would likely – hopefully – become, it was good to see that this area of the house looked a whole lot cleaner and tidier than what that TV room that looked like a week ago. Though, he'd venture to say this floor looked pretty unlived in right now. But that was the reality of it.

E wasn't over there sleeping over anymore. Jay's brother had moved out. Didn't seem like the rooms had much reason for a lot of use. Though, it did look like Halstead's old apartment had pretty much taken up occupancy of the one they were getting situated in. Room across the narrow 'hallway' looked like it'd become more of a junk room than the supposed work-out space it'd originally be toted to him as when they'd moved in.

Now it was just piled with boxes. A lot of them looked like Erin's stuff. So wasn't sure what was going on there. Stuff that had gotten packed for New York but things worked out enough between the two of them and with her plans for the job and the future that they'd never gotten moved? Hopefully it was a good sign about where the relationship was at and where their future was headed. Though, knew that packed boxes could just as easily be something else.

"Thought Olive didn't like plastic made-in-China toys," Jay muttered.

Hank pulled his eyes away from doing his survey of the rooms. Looked at the guy again. Jay had rocked the box up to examine the "Make It Epic" lettering on the front – the company logo and the car coming off some ramp flying over a bunch of other lined up cars.

Between E and H – sending those things flying across the front room or landing on the rest of the cars and finishing it off Monster Truck-style – the illustration pretty much captured some sort of wet dream for those two. Hours of distraction (and arguments) between the little boy and the too-young uncle who was trying pretty damn hard to be "epic" himself. But he was still just a kid too.

E was getting better about realizing that H was just two. Two and a half now. At least Henry was getting to be an age that he could be a real hoot to play with. But he still just played like a two year old and E sometimes struggled with grasping that a bit. Wanted a bit more advanced play or got impatient and frustrated with how H played. Or more how H just wanted to crash and knock-down and destroy everything in sight. Two-year-old boy.

Par for the course. Didn't quite work for Magoo, though. Not when H was knocking down and tossing around the Lego creations and roadster tracks and dinosaur and construction site landscapes he dug up for him in the sandbox and snow piles out back. Pretty fucking interesting – and tiresome – to watch a stand-off between a two-year-old and a fourteen-year-old. Both of them could be so fucking stubborn. Their way or the highway.

Pains in his ass.

E tried, though. Really tried. Had done a good job at developing a relationship with his nephew. With Olive too. And it hadn't been easy. Could see how much the kid wanted it, though. His own mea culpa that really shouldn't have been him giving. But he was.

Hank worried, though. E's relationship with Henry and his status there as uncle was one thing. With Erin – and twins – was pretty sure it was going to be real different. Wasn't exactly sure how it was going to go over. But was pretty damn sure it wasn't going to equate as Magoo jumping up and down and getting real excited about his pending niece and nephew. Figured it would more likely be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for the kid full of thoughts and feelings he didn't quite understand and didn't know how to articulate either. Might be a little bumpy.

Knew that E hadn't exactly been thrilled when he'd been tasked with the job of telling Magoo that Henry was on the way – fathered by the brother he'd hardly gotten to see for the better part of three years with a woman he'd never met. Erin was planning on talking to her brother about it all herself. But with the day to start getting a handle on this, Hank was starting to think he should be telling her that he should be there when she sat down E. Was also weighing if he should be asking her to wait until at least after Monday to bring him into the loop.

He didn't want any hurt feelings, cold shoulders or anxiety to mar Christmas Day. Not when … who fucking knew how many more holidays they'd ever get together anymore. Already had enough memories of family drama and tension at various holidays mucking up and mingling with last memories of his oldest son. Didn't want to have the same with Magoo. Or for Erin to have that as what she had left of her brother either. Especially when it was going to get all rumbled up with how she remembered her pregnancy and telling people and the arrival of these kiddos.

"Made in Malaysia," Hank put back to Jay.

Jay just gave him a look. Knew that was only so different.

"And the plastic?" Jay sassed back.

Him an Erin were only so different. Both Tauruses. The doc go pulling the babies out of his girl by the end of May and they might be a whole fucking family of Tauruses. That might be trouble. Whole lot of stubborn there. But that wasn't necessarily a bad quality to have. Might make them all even bigger pain in the ass for him, though.

Hank just grunted, though. He got Olive's point on the China thing and the plastic thing. But, "Got to be reasonable," he told Jay.

And that's just what Olive was going to have to do. She mostly was. She had her ideas about things. Just like all parents and all mothers. Want what you think is best for your kids. But also have to just do what is within your means. And not look a gift horse in the mouth.

Knew already that Olive sometimes got these ideas in her head and then backed down. Be like the fucking cloth diapers she thought she was going to do with Henry. Had seen all that on her baby registry when her and J sent him the link. He'd looked at it. Didn't go buying anything off it. Because he had his own ideas – and tested experience – about what worked and didn't with babies and kiddos. And hope and dreams versus reality setting in. Had been pretty damn sure that dealing with the extra work of cloth diapers would end up on that list after the lack of sleep set in. So had let other people give her that shit – and sure enough, within about the first month of Henry's life, they'd switched to the disposable variety. Might be shit for the environment but sometimes in those first eight to twelve weeks of bringing that new baby home – really couldn't put any price on your time or sanity.

Store-bought wooden toys weren't cheap. And, unfortunately, finding toys Made in USA was a little hit and miss. Knew Olive knew both of those things. And knew Henry had a whole lot of stuff in his position that fit Olive – and the rest of the family's – time and bank accounts. Maybe "not plastic, not Chinese" toys were on her wish list. But that hadn't been the list Santa got. And wasn't how his workshop worked either.

Olive clearly got that too. When he'd floated by her that he was going to put a bee in Santa's ear about H and E being into Hot Wheels these days – and that keeping them out of Popa's hair – she'd bee agreeable to it. Wasn't stepping on the toes of her planned Santa delivery for H. Actually her who found the set and had offered up pooling the Santa dollars. Didn't need her to do that but didn't tread on her dignity by fighting with her on it. Knew any cash she did hand him, he'd just end up giving right back to her and Henry in some other way anyway.

"This has to have cost more than seventy-five," Jay added and gave him another glance. More of a look to that comment.

Another difficult balance there. Your kids and money – when they are adults and there's life insurance money in the mix – is always hard. More complicated when you've got a girl who took a lot of years to accept when you said she was family and she's your daughter, you actually mean it. Period. Add in working with her. And still working with the guy who'd managed to father her kids – your grandkids. The guy you still were hoping would just get off his ass and marry her. Just made things more fucking complicated. And Jay had his own pride. When it came to asking any kind of help. But money? Asking for some leeway in that is even more of an ego blow.

Hank didn't think Erin or Jay were hurting too bad in their wallets. But also suspected they were spread pretty thin. Living a little pay check to pay check. Didn't think they'd been doing a whole lot of advanced saving or planning for a baby. Let alone twins. So had to hope they'd open up a conversation with him about taking that life insurance money of Camille's. Setting up house and nesting for the arrival of her grandkids – a granddaughter – she'd want the cash to be being used for that. No question.

But hope of having a productive conversation about that when Jay was giving him that look – nil.

"Eighty-eight," Hank gravelled. "Costco. You and Erin want to hand me the extra four bucks of your share …" he shrugged.

Another thing he wasn't going to get his short in the knots about. They wanted to be that way about 'debts' then their own prerogative. But would make this whole getting ready for twins thing a bit of a haul for all of them. He'd helped Justin and Olive with some of the expenses. Had given them some of the baby stuff that was still kicking around the house – saving them dollars. Intended to do the same – as best he could – for these two. Erin and Jay – and the little two.

"Eighty-eight …" Jay muttered and shifted his sight line back to the box.

Hank agreed there too. Good, good deal. Wouldn't have come close to getting that much bang for the buck elsewhere. But that's why you shop around.

"I think the box is wow enough we don't really need to put it together," Jay said.

Agreed with Jay to a point. The box art was pretty "epic" enough – let alone the size of the fucking thing.

But don't judge a book by its cover. And don't act like you know what you're getting until you open up the box and give it a real examination. And don't just assume fucking size said anything about function, quality or performance. Thought Jay knew that, though. Because he was already scanning the list of contents on the side of the box too.

"Just doing as the boss says," Hank provided.

Jay gave him an amused look. But, that tended to be how things worked. Or at least it was how he worked.

He might have his own ideas about how Henry should be raised. But the reality was H wasn't his child. Olive was his mom. And she was doing the best she knew how the way she knew how. She was doing right by him. So Hank was doing his best to avoid stepping on any toes in the process. Didn't want her running away from the family or Chicago again. Didn't want to lose his grandson. So he bit the inside of his cheek and did a whole lot of listening when Olive said something about how she wanted to do things. He gave her space.

And he'd do the same with Erin. Didn't want to lose out on having these kiddos in his life either. Or to hurt his relationship with Erin by being too overbearing about doing things his way. His way wouldn't necessarily be their way.

Had to let them learn how to be the parents they wanted to be. Let them make their own mistakes. Let them figure out on their own what worked and what didn't – for them and for their kids. Let them set up their own traditions. And rules.

And he'd follow along the best he could. And he'd help any way he could. And when asked. How asked.

Olive felt that Santa should be delivering toys unwrapped and all set-up and ready for play. So, that'd be what Santa would be doing that year.

Add it to the list of things not worth getting into any kind of argument about. Might not have been how him and Camille did it. But J and Olive weren't him and Camille. And Jay and Erin wouldn't be either. They'd have their own ideas on how they wanted to do all kinds of things. Christmas morning would be the least of it.

"Has a point," Hank provided. "H is his dad. No patience and wants a lot of instantaneous gratification. Trying to get it set up Christmas morn with him hanging off us and whining doesn't exactly yield a nice, relaxing day."

Jay allowed a sort of amused noise at that. "You think having a Hot Wheels set this big in the living room is going to yield a quiet day?"

No. Sure wasn't. But Hank also knew spending Christmas Day sitting with your family in your living room – watching your kiddos – was just one of those simple memories that stuck with you. They kind of all blended together after a while. Though, he could pinpoint some years based on if he had one, two or three kids underfoot in that memory.

But sitting on the floor with your kids – playing Hot Wheels or Lego or dinosaurs or Army Men or mini hockey – that's part of what being a parent was about. Part of it that made it all worth it. Some of the easy stuff and the happy stuff. Just the fucking mundane stuff. That he wouldn't trade. And that made up a whole lot of memories. Memories with both his boys. Memories with his grandson now.

So if E and Henry wanted to make all kinds of noise Christmas morning building track and racing and crashing these things. He didn't have any problem with that. He was looking forward to it. And fully expected that at some point in the day, he'd get in on the fun and games with the two of them too. And despite the look Jay was giving him now – knew full well that the guy would be helping the two little guys wrap the track all around the house until it was 'epic' too.

"Where's she even going to put a toy this big?" Jay asked.

Hank shrugged. "Hope her house, not mine."

Jay snorted and started working at, getting the top of the box open. "This is about a quarter of the floor space at Erin's condo."

Hank grunted. "Likely just be sending the playset home with H," he said. "Keep a bunch of the track around for E."

Jay nodded. "He'll like that. Rube Goldberg."

Hank allowed another grunted acknowledgment.

"He was talking about that today," Jay said, giving him a look. Lots of looks on the guy's face lately. A little too broken and a little too overwhelmed. Wasn't hiding it well at all. "The team RIC is setting up at RIC. For the challenge."

Just gave another grunt and went over to help looking in the box.

"You knew about that," he said. "You got him that Lego contraption pieces."

Just gave another grunt and a smack. Wasn't a hard thing to know about. His kid. Took care of him. Raised him. Listened to him. That's just how it worked.

E – any of your kids – talking about something they were interested in and excited about was the easy part of listening. You just needed to listen then. It wasn't an exercise if actually listening. It wasn't having to listen and hear what they said.

But Hank had had to get used to doing that with E lately. He'd had a whole lot of those conversations too. More than any parent ever should have to. Especially with a kid that age. But it was good. It'd helped him learning to listen – and hear – when Erin and when Olive were talking to him too. Listening skills – hearing skills – were harder when the kids were adults. Thought there was an extra skill set to it when it was girls – women. Or he'd just never mastered it with Justin as well as he should. He knew he hadn't. His hearing definitely hadn't been good enough there. That was part of the reason his son was gone and Henry was growing up without a father.

Jay just gestured into the box, though. "Looks like he's have lots of track now."

E would.

The box was packaged neatly enough. Three track sets all in their own boxes. Would leave those in the boxes. Would have to decide if he'd just set them out with the playset or wrap them up. Maybe put them back in this massive box. Though the majority of the box space was being taken up by the massive city garage playset that Jay was hauling out.

Hank knew Magoo woudn't be too interested in the playset. But it was the sort of thing that H would get lost in. Lots of spots to sort his cars and put them on and off shit. Lots of ramps to send them racing down – over and over. Lots of buttons to push and sounds to make and lights to light up. Gas station. Mechanic shop. Car wash. Police station. Jail. Fire station. Even had a helicopter and a helicopter pad. Big fighter jet up on top to load cars on and take them for a ride.

Or at least when they got it all together – that'd be what it'd look like. By the looks of it, it was going to take a while. But that'd mean Jay would be stuck with him for a while too. Supposed, now, they were going to be stuck together in some way for the rest of their lifetimes. So might as well get used to it. And the conversations – and open communication lines – that were going to need to go with it.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **OK. So I know I said it'd be dialogue heavy and it very clearly wasn't. The next one will be. So much so that I don't think it matters who's POV I do it from and I should likely almost just write it as script dialogue!**

 **I've gotten some comments and DMs asking if I've picked names for the twins and/or if I'm taking the suggestions.**

 **The answer is, no, I haven't directly picked names. Part of that is because this story won't go right up to them being born. And if I do one of them being born, it'd be a separate story.**

 **I do have some ideas for names. But I'm also working at feeling out how I think Erin and Jay characters would go with names. Generally, I feel that Jay would favor very traditional and simple names. I think Erin might have more leeway in picking something a bit less off the beaten track or more untraditional. But I do think for a girl she'd favor gender neutral, or at least a very "strong" sounding name. I'm not sure they are the kind of people who'd give the kids their initials or matchy-matchy names despite having them joke about that in the previous chapter. That doesn't necessarily mean they wouldn't end up with names that had their initials or some sort of family connection to it. But if that was the case, I think it'd have less to do with them doing it on purpose and more to do with that's just the names they really liked/wanted.**

 **I'm not really taking suggestions. But you can send them if you really want. I'll see them. But it doesn't necessarily mean anything.**

 **I will paste a MASSIVE list of possibilities below while I continue to churn on it (part of it is a character creation thing too. For if I do write stories in the future that include the kids, which I'm really not sure I would. But if I did, I'm thinking a bit about what kind of little people these would be and what certain personality traits, characteristics and interests they might have. And thinking about what sort of names might capture that or grow with that person).**

 **I've put an * next to ones that I'm sort of favoring — or more that I think that the Jay or Erin characters in this AU might end up favoring. Other than that (and putting E names and J names into groups) there is no rhyme or reason to the order the names are in.**

 **As always, your readership, comments, reviews and feedback are appreciated — on the chapter above.**

Names

 **Girl**

Erica

Emily/Emma (Em or Emmy)

Elizabeth (Libby)

Evangeline (Ev)

Echo

Enid

*Emilia (Em or Emmy)

Effie

*Ellen

June

Jillian (Jill)

Joan

Jane

Jessica (Jess or Jessie)

*Joanna (Jo or Joey)

Jenna

*Kate (Katie)

*Sam (Samantha)

*Lark

*Lily

*Isabelle (Izzy)

*Maisie

Tessa (Tess)

Meg

April

May

Angie

Becky

Holly

Alexa (Lex)

Claire

Marie

Penny

Piper

Summer

Cassie

Paige

Ayra

Gwen

Lucy

 **Boy**

*Emmett

Elias (Eli)

Elliott (Eli)

*Eric

*Easton

Endo

Ender

Ezra

Enzo

*Emerson

*Jameson (Jamey, James, Jim)

*Jackson (Jack)

*Jayden

*Joshua (Josh)

Jonas (Joey/Joe)

Jeffrey (Jeff)

Joel

*Timothy (Tim)

*Nicholas (Nick)

*Luke

*Daniel (Danny)

*Samuel (Sam)

*Michael (Mike)

*Zachary (Zack)

*Wyatt

*Quentin (Quinn)

*Andrew (Drew)

*Pete

*Matthew (Matt)

*Isaac (Zac)

*Robert (Bobby or Robbie)

*Cooper (Coop)

*Lincoln

*Findley (Fin, Tif)

*Ian

*Campbell

*Ryan

Leo

Theo (Theodore)

Thomas (Tom)

Hudson

Austin

Colin

Logan

Randy

Bryce

Roddy

Miles

Knox

Grayson

Bryson

Harrison

Ford

Dustin

Tully

Sean

Mark

Lane

Rick

Christopher (Chris)

Corbin

Ned

Orion

Donal

Adler

Chase

Anderson

Andre

Smith

Lewis

Clark

Ray

Scott

Bradley

Trevor

Linus

Langdon

Bryn

Rixton

Tobias (Toby)

Davis (Dave, Davey)

Xavier

Sebastian (Bastian)

Zane

Dexter (Dex)

Baxter (Bax)

 **Gender Neutral**

Everett (with an e and Ev for a girl)

Jamie

*Jesse

Jordan

*Quinn

*Brooklyn (Brook for a girl)

*Mackenzie (Mac or Kenzie for a girl)

*Madison (Maddie for a girl)

*Casey

Blair

Cameron (could shorten to Cami for a girl)

Hunter

West

August

Sawyer

Laker

Lief

Taylor

Lee

Blake

Alex (Lex)

Robin

Kit

Sydney

EJ

JJ

Winter

Riley

Ryder

Cody


	31. Worth It

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Hank shifted to stretch his legs some. Been sitting getting the damn playset together for a while. He was getting to the stage of his life that he could only deal with sitting on the floor like that for so long. Likely would've been better to just to this on the dining room table after he got Magoo to bed. But if he did that he wouldn't get this time locked in a room with Jay.

Could tell the guy near felt like he'd looked him in the cage. Clearly didn't seem overly impressed with this alone time. Like he was taking a knife to his ear or some pliers to his fingers. Break some knuckles. Bust some balls.

But wasn't the purpose of this little powwow at all. Sitting criss-cross apple sauce. Hadn't heard that for a long time but Henry had been spouting off a mangled version of that at him with the daycare staff trying to work on his manners. Or at least get him to sit still. Were only doing so good of job at that.

Boys were hard, though. Hard when they were little guys. Hard when they were big guys too. Apparently hard when they were your own and when they weren't too. Not necessarily a guy thing. Just a human thing.

But could still tell that Jay would really prefer to be somewhere else, talking to pretty much anyone else right now. Not that they were doing a lot of talking. Wasn't either of their strong points.

Good enough guy, though – man. Even though this right here wasn't exactly how he wanted to be spending his pre-dinner time – was helping out, was doing it. Because he was asked. Or because family. Hoped Jay knew that was what it was. That's what he was. If he hadn't been able to accept that he'd earned that title and place before – that he got that he'd pretty much forever minted himself in that position now. And, that was a good thing. Even in the fucking hard and uncomfortable moments. He thought these days were them – then, well, the kid was going to learn. Whole lot more ahead of him now. Ahead of all of them.

Still, Jay's eyes shifted to him, giving him a read. "Want to move it onto the bed," he offered. "Could go grab a chair."

Hank just grunted. Wasn't a no. But it was.

Wasn't necessary. And had been enough trips downstairs to get a knife and screwdriver and scissors and batteries as it was. The way they fucking packaged toys anymore. You just about needed an engineering degree to get the damn things out of the box before you even started trying to piece them together.

So been enough disruption. Enough up and down and in and out. Didn't want to risk either of the boys stirring or deciding they wanted to come upstairs to see what was up.

Managed to finally get it all out of the box. But now putting the damn thing together was taking a bit. Erin had already popped up to ask how much longer they'd be and if she was okay to start getting the sides on and to pull the meat out of the oven to rest a bit. Get some minced pie tarts in the oven that they'd apparently attempted.

Be interested to see how that went. They turn out okay and Hank was pretty sure both Erin and Jay could drop it with the claims that neither of them knew how to cook – or bake. Seen lots of evidence contrary to that.

Really could've gotten this task finished a whole lot faster if the damn manufacturer had put all the stickers on the thing before shoving it into the packaging. But hadn't. They'd spent the first thirty minutes dealing with that. Fucking annoying, piddle shit. Busy work. And not great work for the hands and fingers of full grown men.

Made worse when him and Jay had their perfectionist tendencies. Been some muttered cussing out of the both of them when the stickers weren't lining up all-level and centered just so. More fucking swearing at trying to get them peeled off in one piece and re-applied just right. And even more fucking cursing as the damn things stuck to their fingers and didn't want to let go. Actually might be a miracle if they got the set all put together without tossing it across the room.

They'd moved on to a bit of divide and conquer on the rest of the set. Hank was working at getting the little town at the base of the set all snapped into place. Jay was dealing with the car wash and detailing station that took up one of the platforms of the garage. Looked like it had a lot of moving parts. And could see that Jay was in precision mode. Military precision. Good eye, nimble fingers, steady hands. Reason he was their go-to in the sniper nest. Lots of reasons now that he probably should've considered SWAT being after him a year ago. But that was then. Wasn't the now of Chicago police anymore.

Getting their respective sections snapped together and all aligned would still take a bit. And then they were still going to have to deal with the ramps and getting the rest of the garage platforms in place after they sorted out these zones.

"Just out of practice," Hank rasped.

Wasn't sure he ever was in practice. The house never had enough space for a playset this size. Wasn't too sure that they really made playsets quite this big when his kids were growing up anyway. And even if they had, him and Camille wouldn't have indulged the kids quite this way.

Not that he felt Olive was going too overboard. Not when they'd split the cost three ways and that part of it was for Magoo. Or just the two of the kids. But also knew that Olive was likely to have other things from Santa for his grandson. Knew that he'd given her some stuff for the little boy's stocking. Knew that Erin and Jay would've too. And that there'd be presents from everyone too. And that Olive took a bit of a different outlook on how much should be under the Christmas tree for Henry.

Sometimes he worried a bit that Henry might grow up a little spoiled. He was a little spoiled. And it wasn't just Olive who was at fault there. Knew he did it too. Knew Erin did when she got the chance too. And he knew why they did it too. But you couldn't fill holes with stuff. And it didn't make up for what H was missing – would miss – in his life.

And had to reel Magoo in when he took him out on his Christmas run. Had been pretty set on making sure he spent the whole budgeted fifteen bucks and getting all these little small things so the kid would have a ton to open. Had to give him a bit of a talk about too much being overwhelming for a kid that age. That H would have lots of presents and already had lots of toys. Didn't need to go to town. And remind him that thought counted for more than number or price tag. Just like time together. Always been of the opinion that if you had more than two or three gifts – things that were really needed or wanted by the kids – you were just spending money for the sake of spending money. Didn't make a whole lot of sense and sure didn't capture the meaning of the day or the person in your life either.

Knew with Magoo, though, there was a lot going through that head of his. If his brother's death hadn't made his relationship with Henry complicated and confusing enough for a kid that age, his own health and it's progressively predictable but so fucking unpredictable decline just made it … complicated. Hank didn't know how to capture it. And he was a man in his 50s. How was a 14-year-old kid supposed to figure out a way to express it. He wanted to be 'epic'. He wanted to be the 'best uncle ever'. He wanted H to know him and remember him – now. A lot to ask out of a two-year-old. But Hank wanted that too. He just hadn't agreed with his son that a bag full of dollar bin toys was the way to do that. They'd come to a compromise. They'd figured it out. They would just have to keep doing that.

They all would. Would only get more complicated. With the twins. Be a conversation he'd have to continue to have with Magoo. More compromises they'd all have to make. Landscapes they'd have to figure out how to navigate. Emotions none of them were too good at expressing. Or maybe even understanding.

"Yea?" Jay allowed. "This what Christmas looked like in your house?"

Hank allowed a little snort at that. Shook his head. "About as 'wow' we got was a street hockey net. For J … Justin," he corrected himself. Needed to get better about doing that. "One of those ones with the targets. You know?"

Jay allowed a small nod. "Yea. We had that."

"Mmm …," Hank grunted. "Cold that Christmas break. Real winter. Still out in the laneway every day. Working on getting frost bite as much as his shot."

Hank shook his head to pull himself out of that.

"Was real good," he muttered. "Talented."

Tried to stick to the good memories. But sometimes – it was even better just not to dwell on the good stuff either. Only managed to make you a little melancholy too.

"That why you're trying to get Henry into hockey?" Jay asked – pulling him from it a bit.

Hank smacked and shrugged. He didn't know. Did know. Henry wasn't Justin. As much as he saw his son in him, also was real aware he was his own little person.

"See what he thinks," he allowed. "Just something to do Saturday morning. Give Olive a bit of a break."

More than that. It was making time for H once a week. For a couple hours. Just the two of them – unless Magoo decided he did want to come and sit in a cold arena. Doubted that. Hockey and skating were never his thing. Though, he'd taken some interest in it since J died. But couldn't handles the skates or the cold at this point. So sort of hoped E would just stay at home. Sort of hoped too that Henry would at least enjoy himself. That maybe it'd turn into something he could share with his grandson over his childhood. But hopes aren't much better than dreams. Just had to wait and see.

"Your folks have Santa deliver the 'wow'?" Hank put back to the kid. Redirect. Good way to change topics.

Jay made a sound and kept staring at what he was doing. Trying to get all these little robotic arms stuck into place and articulating just right to keep up the illusion they were working on the vehicles put through the thing.

"Yea," he allowed. "Santa went for the 'wow'. Toy of the year crap. Even if neither of us wanted it. Guess we had about every brand and generation of gaming console appear under the tree."

Hank grunted. And Jay more directly met his eyes. "My dad liked spending outside our means. Appearances." And the kid just shook his head and looked back to his work at hand. "I don't know how you managed to fully avoid them for so long. The video games."

Hank shrugged. "Just bought them."

"And that didn't create fights constantly?"

Hank shrugged again. "Not when they're little. You set up rules and expectations. Doesn't mean the kids don't ask. Just means they know the answer before they do."

"Sounds like a whine fest," Jay muttered.

Hank grunted. "J bugged about it more around the same age E started busting my balls about it. Just didn't want them in the house. Their mom didn't either. He could play them at his buddies' places."

Jay nodded a bit. "It was likely a good call. Sort of wish we didn't have that stuff in the house when I was growing up."

Hank looked at him at that. But Jay wasn't looking back. Back to dealing with the toy.

"And, you know, we didn't need the 'wow' at Christmas. Some of the gifts I remember most. Not wow at all. A hacky sack. I begged for that. I don't know. I think he, my dad, thought it was … just for kids looking for trouble. The stoners. My mom got it for me. Had it forever. I mean … I kicked that thing until the beads were falling out. And I knew my dad wouldn't buy me another one and my mom …" he just shook his head again. "So by the end … I was filling it back up with sand and gravel. Duct taping it."

"Resourceful," Hank grunted.

Jay made a noise at that and clicked the rotating belt of the section he was working on. The arms bopped up and down. Looked like he'd got it.

"Good practice for you, though," Hank offered, as Jay did his test run on the thing. Gave it a full rotation. Watching each and every click it made and testing its movement back and forth. Though, he did get a bit of a confused look. "Castles, Barbie Dream Houses, more of these things in your future."

"Oh …," Jay said and stared at the thing. "Yea. I guess."

That was it.

"Don't think I actually had to do this level of assembly too many times with my kids," Hank said. "Not on this scale."

But it was a nice change of pace. Even if it was fucking annoying.

Thought it might be a nicer change of pace if there were some doll houses or play kitchens or plastic vanity sets needing piecing together in the future too. Though, also suspected Jay wasn't the kind of man who'd need much help with getting that sort of thing assembled. Olive could've easily have managed this on her own too. More of a time thing with her. And, Hank also was trying not to set himself up with any kind of delusions about who that granddaughter of his might be.

Didn't want to place labels or expectations. Your kids never ended up being the person you might've have imagined. But that was part of it that made it worth it. Getting to know them. Learning more about them each and every day.

So was trying to keep his own ideas about what having a little girl in the family would be like. Open mind about who and what his granddaughter would be. Let her be her own person with her own interests.

Didn't need to be a girlie girl. Though, it'd be interesting to see if she was. With her mom and having a brother and a little cousin and an uncle who was still a kid too. Whole lot of boys around her. Going for another test in nature versus nurture there. If she was a girlie girl was pretty sure she'd be a rough-and-tumble toughie too. Or could end up going the opposite way, his girlie girl granddaughter might end up meaning he had a grandson with a softer touch on his hands.

That might not be a bad thing either. Just knew he was going to be real curious to watch two kids the exact same age grow and develop together. See their personalities and interests come out. See how that rubbed off on each other. See their parents – their mom – in them. They might not realize it yet but they'd be a good mix for these kiddos. Good personalities – even the frustrating parts of them. But tended to believe that even though your kids made you do a lot of looking in the mirror and sometimes not liking what you see, that you usually ended up with the best pieces of each of you dominating the mix. The parts that needed to be there for these new lives to make their lives and find their ways. The parts that you needed too in a kid – even when it sure didn't feel that way. Was, though. You got the kids you needed and the ones you deserved.

Erin and Jay deserved this. In the most positive way.

A boy and a girl. Little hard to … wrap to fully wrap your head around it. And he was only the grandpa.

Jay nodded again. "Yea, it's pretty epic …" he quipped. But caught his eyes. "I likely would've loved getting this as a kid. Or something like it."

"Hot Wheels kid?"

Jay shrugged. "A bit. I guess."

"Hmm …," Hank grunted. "Your folks take you out to the Volo Auto Museum?"

Figured he already knew that answer. But waited for the headshake anyway.

"Ever been?" Hank rasped.

"No."

He grunted and waited until he got another look from Jay. "Planning on taking the kiddos out when it warms up. Got big strip of the antique shops too. Supposed to have a lot of the old Hot Wheels and Matchboxes in there. Let Magoo go a little OCD."

It got a thin smile.

Jay was a car guy. Car guy. Motorcycle guy. They were sitting in a fucking room plastered with motorcycles. Saw the way he got into it with E when the kid picked out a new diecast. Always with the old classics, roadsters and muscle cars. Had seen Jay get about as excited as the teen about a good find.

Had tried real hard to distract all three of them that fall with the bike in the shed. Had worked well enough for him and Magoo. Was a real slow process since he was letting E and his tremoring hands take care of a lot of it. Really pick at it nice and slow. So he could take ownership of it when it was all said and done. And that was still going to be a bit. There was still work to do to get it all rebuilt and souped up the way they'd talked about. But Jay still wasn't taking him up on the offered distraction.

Should. Projects. Working with your hands. Important. Good way to keep the mind focused. Not flying every which way.

Though, he'd have a lot of projects ahead of him in the coming months. But likely ones that could get his mind spinning too. And even when you had all those necessary projects – always good to keep one of your own on the backburner too. A good standby. Because you did need to carve out some time for yourself. If you were going to be the best man – father – you could be. Needed that bit of space to be you. To work on you.

Let you be you with your kids too. Real you. And helped you figure out how to intermingle all that better too. The job. Your family. Your responsibilities. Competing titles and priorities. And still being you. Finding yourself in all that.

"Yea," Hank allowed. "This fall. Had been really enjoying mixing up the Saturday morning coffee and pastry run with the boys with the monthly diecast hunt. Trip out to Volo good way to kick off the season again when winter starts letting up."

"Forecasters say it's going to be a bad one," was all it got.

Still not ready to … start finding his balance. Or realizing that … he got family. Already. And when some of this shit just became family time – and it was family time without the drama time – it made the rest of the balance easier.

Hank grunted. Acknowledged his comment. "So should come with us. Could hold off to a weekend Erin's in town. Know how she feels about the antiquing and the flea shops."

Got another little glance from Jay. "Markets." Hank gave it a smack. "Flea markets, not shops."

Hank just looked at him. Unnecessary clarification. Smart ass talk.

"You know today wasn't punishment," he said.

"Sure …," Jay allowed.

Hank ran his tongue in his check.

"Desk duty is," Jay provided.

Hank grunted. He wasn't going to say it wasn't. But it was just smart. Halstead had been having some slips – in judgement and otherwise lately. And a lot of balls were in the air right now. Better to just be careful. And give him some time to get back into things after the latest. And his furlough. Wouldn't be too long. Couple weeks at the most. If he didn't do the Pout-Pout Fish act through the whole thing.

But right now they were in personal time. Not getting into the work situation. If Halstead wanted to talk to him about work – could do it at work. That was just going to have to be the way it was. Especially now. Needed to keep it divided.

"Know I started going and talking to someone," Hank gravelled and gave him a nod. Saw the way Jay looked at him at that. But if they were going to do personal – then do personal. If they were family – it was already personal. "After Justin. Part of the deal with me and Erin …" he just rolled his hand at that.

Didn't need to go into that. Figured Jay might know more about Erin's headspace in all that and the deal more than he did. Maybe knew a whole lot more about just how close he'd been to losing his daughter. But maybe didn't know how much fucking work it'd been to work through what they needed to work through. And that even for what they had worked through, Hank knew they still had a lot more. They're repaired their relationship. But their relationship was changed.

Changed again that summer. Changed again now. It was better now. Maybe it was the way it was supposed to be or needed to be. But it was different. And it was still a hard process. As a father. Having an adult child telling you the ways you'd screwed up and not being able to argue with them too much on that. And just having to accept that.

And, within that coming to terms with how dependent you actually were on having that adult child in your life. How much your relationship with them had come to define a whole lot of aspects in your life. And how the changed relationship – the changed distance – meant that you felt alone a lot of the time. Real lonely in a new way than you'd ever felt since your wife died. Just didn't have the same support and company. So you had to figure out how to be a different man and a different father – re-define yourself – in a whole lot of ways when you were in your 50s. It wasn't easy. But with wasn't too easy or too fair. And that was just life.

"Been going again," he allowed. "Since Magoo," he said and made another gesture. Another thing he didn't really think he needed to get into. Not with the way Jay was looking at him. But Hank just gave a little shrug. "And, truth is, I don't know how I really feel about it. Been going to talk to this woman for a while. And still not really good at talking stuff. Expressing feelings. But, it was this point, where I knew I had no choice. I needed to get my ass back in that office and that chair. To talk to someone about it. So else …" he shook his head and looked Jay in the eye. "Or else, I don't know. Still don't like going and sitting in that office much. Don't look forward to it. But, I don't regret making the decision to go in there. To talk about it. Sometimes I regret that I waited as long as I did to sit my ass in that chair."

Jay looked back to his work.

"Jay," Hank rasped at him. And waited. Because he knew the guy would look at him. Because he did. Eyes up and forward – even when he wouldn't look you right in the eye. And up they came. "Today was not punishment. Not professionally. Not personally. More like it's me, as your boss, offering you an extra layer of protection on the job. And, here, at home," he shrugged and looked back to his own work. "Father of my grandkids. Important job."

Felt Jay's eyes stay on him. But took his turn to act real interested in working on the cityscape. Trying not to break the pieces of plastic before they got handed to a two-year-old who'd no doubt find creative ways to try to put this thing through the wringer. Though, looked like at least the manufacturer realized they were marketing toward little boys and that meant it took a little bit extra for them to get to stand up to play. This wasn't going to get used for some dainty tea party.

"Does it help?" Jay finally asked.

Hank allowed his head to bob. "It's tough," he said. "Really tough."

He looked up to gaze at the guy. The guy's eyes had changed so much that fall. A lot more haunted than they used to be. Hank was finding every day now it was having to do a read and measure on Jay's eyes. Watching to make sure the guy didn't get too close to an edge. And these days – now – was even going to be hard to let him dance on the edge. Not when he knew there were two grandkids coming. Not when he didn't want more grandkids growing up without a father.

But also knew that wasn't what Jay wanted or needed to hear about therapy. That that wasn't even entirely what he was asking at all.

Does it help. Where were things at. Just what kind of shitstorm was he – were any of them – operating in.

So Hank looked back at the base.

"Being a father – being a cop and a father," he allowed. "It's …" he shook his head and looked at Jay. "Wrap a lot of yourself – I do – into taking care of people, things. Fixing things. Justice, whatever that means. And this …," he said and gave another shrug and stared at the bedroom's door. "There's some fucking cheesy saying that they're going to start spouting at you. About you being your kid's first hero."

"You're still Eth's hero …" Jay provided.

"Yeah, well," Hank said and looked back to getting the police station done up.

The jail cell doors for the speeding cars locked into place. These days he wasn't too sure if they were the ones in a prison of circumstance for some of his crimes or they were the ones standing in front of that speeding vehicle unable to get out of its way before its inevitable collision with them. Supposed it didn't really matter. Metaphors never did. Never captured it anyway. Not reality. Just some weak-ass way of trying to explain reality to the people who had no business in ever understanding. Never really wanted to anyway. And a waste of breath trying.

"We're in a situation I can't fucking fix," he said and gave Jay a look. "Situation where I don't have anyone to blame. There's no fucking justice. No revenge. It's just …" and he waved his hand again. "And I've got this kid, who's old enough to know I can't fix it for him, but so desperately wants me to." Hank said and looked back down because he wasn't going to let Jay see his eyes then. "I can see it in his face every fucking day. Every night. And, out of all the things I can't do for him anymore, I can hold him, comfort him – when that's what he wants, needs. So, as much as I know Erin's, yours, Olive's hearts are in the right place with this TV thing. I hear you're concerned about him, about me. I hear that. But, what I also hear in it that you're trying to fix – by taking away – one of the only fucking things that I'm able to do for him anymore."

Jay's eyes stayed on him for a long time. Hank could tell he finally got it. So he looked away on his own and gave the room a vague gesture. "The plan, this going to be the nursery?"

Another topic change. Because it was easier.

Jay nodded. "Yea …"

Hank grunted. "So. Back in Chicago – this house - by May." Statement. But really was a question.

Jay's eyes really did meet his at that, though. "That's the plan," he agreed.

Hank grunted. But felt his own thin smile settle on his lips. Good to know that. He could work with that. And could start working on playing his own part in making sure that became reality. Whatever they needed to make that a reality.

"Be fun getting the room ready," he tried.

Jay nodded but shook his head and stared around the room. It would be fun. But a lot of work.

"Good to have a project," Hank offered.

"Yea …," Jay acknowledged. But didn't seem so sure.

"Should get on her about making a registry," Hank suggested carefully. "A shower."

"I don't think that's her thing," Jay muttered.

Hank shrugged. "Know that. But with twins …"

They were going to need all the help they could get. Prepping for one baby was costly enough. Prepping for two? When it looked like it'd be a boy and a girl? That wasn't even just getting double of everything. That was getting a lot of separate but the same in some categories. Two cribs. Two strollers. Two car seats. Piles of diapers. Clothes and laundry to the gunwales for years to come. Shoes and toys cluttering up every space in the house.

They needed to let people in to help. The sooner the better. May. Five months. Would go by quick.

Jay gave him a glance. "I don't think she has a lot of female friends."

Hank grunted. He knew that too. "Sure work in the Big Apple would put on something. Least buy something off the registry. And, District …" he offered.

Jay just looked at him. But family. Their family would make sure they were ready, if Jay and Erin gave them a chance to do that. And he thought – he knew – that more people would show up for that than likely either of them thought or wanted to acknowledge.

"You need help with any of it …," Hank nodded at him.

Jay's eyes set on him. "I don't know much about this sort of thing."

Hank shrugged and gestured to the door. "Registries just online anymore. Let the boss pick the colors. Theme or décor or whatever she gets her head set on. Furniture. You just have to put it together. Reading the instruction manual with that crap. Hardest part."

"I meant babies."

Hank stared at him. "They don't tend to come with instruction manuals."

"Yea …," Jay acknowledged and went back to working on his part of the garage.

Hank sighed and looked at his job too.

"Guess you must be missing your mom around these days," he allowed. Got a real look at that. A warning one. But just ignored it. Didn't need a warning. "Know Justin seemed to miss his mom while Olive was pregnant. When H got here. Things he would've liked to ask her or talk to her about. Even just telling her. Seeing her face. I would've liked to see that too. Would've liked to talk to him about it. Fatherhood. The baby. Lots of things he didn't ask me. Could've. But didn't. Didn't have that kind of relationship."

Jay looked back to his work.

"Funny," Hank said. "I had my mom around but don't remember asking her much. Spent a lot of time wishing my dad was around. Same thing. Just tell him about the baby. Things I thought I wanted to talk to him about. About being a father. But, you know, I don't think even if he was around I would've. Maybe a generational thing but didn't have that kind of relationship with him either. Doubt that would've changed. Guess I fucked that up with Justin too. Fathers and sons."

"Did Erin put you up to this?" Jay glared at him.

"Meaning?"

"I'll tell my dad when and how I want," he said.

Hank smacked at that. Jay's eyes stayed on him for a long beat. But then shifted back to the work.

"Erin told you that me and Camille – our first pregnancy was a miscarriage?" Jay just gave him another look. "Yea," Hank shrugged. "That late in the pregnancy. Where we were in our lives, marriage. My job. Just didn't try again right away. And right away just kept on getting pushed back. By me. Always some excuse. When I'd put in my ten. When I made detective," he provided and moved the timeline along with his hands.

"We weren't trying. Not really. Actually, probably in a bit of a rough patch. You know, watched thirty creep up on me. Then whip around to the thirty-first birthday. I'm putting in extra hours, boots to the ground. Running the streets trying to grab up some good cases. Make my mark, you know. Get that detective's shield before my ten."

Hank grunted at himself. "So not seeing each other much. As much as you should – your wife, your best friend. And the fucking irony of it is that I'm having some sort of existential crisis about hitting thirty-one meanwhile do the math and pretty much life decided how to sort that out for me to the day. And, Camille sits me down – come home, big dinner – to tell me this.

"Thirty-one year old man – and I didn't feel ready. Or like I knew what the fuck I was doing. Or how to balance it out with our marriage and the job. And …" he rolled his hand over again but looked Jay in the eyes. "But you figure it out. You'll do better than you think. And, Jay, the parts you're thinking are too hard – they're probably going to be easier than you think. Parts you think are going to be easy – they're the ones that are going to be harder. And all the ones you haven't even thought of. They're just going to fucking blindside you. And there's nothing you can do about that. Not now. And when it happens – trust me, you're still going to fucking figure it out. That's the kind of man you are."

"You don't know what kind of man I am," Jay said mutedly.

"Yea, actually, I do," Hank rasped at him and Jay actually met his eyes. "I see you on the job. I see the man you are on the job, Jay. And I see the man you are at home. With the people you let in. I see you with my daughter. I see you with my son. And I see you with my grandson. And I see the kind of father you're going to be."

Jay shook his head. But kept his eyes. "I don't know what kind of father I'm going to be."

Hank nodded at him. Jutted his chin at him. "I do. Damn sure Erin does too."

Jay looked away. And Hank scrubbed at his face. He elongated his chin. He tried to figure out a way to express this to another guy – to a young guy – who also didn't know how to do emotions. Not the right way.

"Jay, look," he managed. "I'm not going to sugar coat it for you. I'm not going to tell you that you're in for an easy road. Or that you're relationship with Erin is going to be all daisies and roses. That you're going to have some sort of instanteous connection or overwhelming love with these writhing wailing creatures the doctor will be handing to you to bring home. But you will have a bond with them. With Erin. With these two kids. All three of them – they're always going to have a piece of you. Always."

And that's a hard road. It's a big fucking responsibility. It's not easy. But just like any job – anything that comes with any kind of title – you work at it and you earn it. So you fucking deserve it.

Jay deserved this. The guy just needed to come to terms with that. Hank needed him to come to terms with that. Because Jay was getting an opportunity that neither of his boys would. Justin didn't get to see his son grow up. E, even if he did get to adulthood, wasn't ever going to be able to father children of his own. And even with other ways and other options – it wouldn't be too fair for a child for Ethan to be a parent. And that was heartbreaking too. It added to the loss.

Jay did, though. He had all this opportunity in front of him. All this … hope and promise and renewal and perspective … that having kids had.

Hank wanted him to grab onto that. Wanted him to have that. The grounding. And the fucking reason. And for Erin to have all the opportunity too. To be able to fucking know that … him and Camille … they'd played a part in it. That they wanted to give her the opportunity to thrive and to just be happy. They'd done that. They'd more than done that. And now he just wanted that for his grandkids too.

"You get what you put into it, Jay. And if you're the man I know you are, the good will eventually outweigh the bad. And even when it's all going to shit – you're going to look back on it, or get to sit in the fucking living room watching your kids and grandkids you've got, at what you're got – and you're still going to feel like it's worth it."

Hank shook his own head and looked down. Because – some days, a whole lot of days anymore, it was just hard. Real hard.

And the reminder of that started clicking and fumbling in a shuffled stagger up the stairs.

"Erin …?" he heard called. "Dad … ? Where'd everyone go?" And another fumble and a clatter of a crutch coming off Eth's arm and falling down the stairs.

So he shook his head out of it and hauled himself up from Henry's criss-cross apple sauce pose and headed for the door. He gave Jay a look. He met his eyes.

"I tell Erin. I tell all my kids. You can talk to me about anything. You know that? Right? Even when it's all seems like it's going to shit. Especially when you feel that way."

And Jay kept his eyes. "Yea," he allowed. "I do."

Wouldn't say it was enthusiastic. But could see a flicker in his eyes. That was enough. For now.

So Hank opened the door. "It's worth it," he stressed at Jay again.

And he went to catch one of the reasons it was on the steps – grabbing him before he tottered and fell. Steadying him and earning a big smile and Magoo gripped onto his arm to let him help him down the steps.

"I didn't know if you were here yet," his kid said.

"I'm here," Hank assured.

Being there – as much as you could be and then some – that's the best you could do. The most you could do. Good times and bad. Or those days that were just a fucking mix of both.

Like today. Like every other. And then some too.


	32. Just a Mess

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

"Tep … tep … tep," Henry recited as he rather exuberantly – but much too slowly for Erin's liking – worked at getting himself up the stairs.

Though, that changed after he heard Hank more than grunting at the ramble she could hear Ethan spouting even from the bottom of the stairs. Hank was getting a rather lengthy recap of pretty much everything she'd said to her brother that day. And she knew even without having to listen to him repeat it that it hadn't been very interesting stuff. Hank's patience level with Ethan, though …. She supposed all their patience levels of Ethan. Though, she also supposed that even with her and Justin, Hank had done a good job of listening and grunting at them too – listening noises – even when he wasn't that interested. He was interested just enough because they were his kids. But some days that was more interested than others. Depending on what was popping at work – which usually had implications for his patience level on a given day too.

Patience level that was pretty much static in the topped-out realm belonged to Henry. Henry knew it too. Or in the very least – he was all about Popa. He lit up – nearly as much as Hank did whenever the little boy was around – even hearing Hank's gravelled reply to Ethan.

"Pa-pa!" Henry shrieked. "Pa-pa!" And the step, step, step got a whole lot faster as he now worked at getting his short little leg to charge back up the stairs from his diaper change.

He'd reached the top of the stairs before her after all that. And she knew what she was going to see when she got up there. Because she'd heard Hank's usual greeting to the little boy: "There's my man."

And she knew that by the time she did get upstairs, Hank would have Henry scooped up in a hug. Still doing the swayed rock that he did when he got to hold him. She suspected a ingrained movement from when he'd held all both his boys while they were still just babies and toddlers. A rock that she'd him still use on Ethan that summer in the weeks where it felt like they were going to lose him and he'd had frightened moments where all he wanted was to just be held by his dad. Moments where Hank had finally let himself out of that hospital chair and to wander the cramped room and the sterile halls of the hospital – holding a boy that was too big to be carried like that but still too, too small for a kid his age. And the gentle sway and the slight rock – and the rubbing of the exposed ear – it just seemed to happen.

Erin wondered if that was just a natural motion you somehow learned when you became a parent. She wondered if her kids would get that sedated – everything's alright right now – look that Henry got when he was gripped and rocked by Hank like that. That instantaneous calm. One that she knew – she'd seen – had worked with Ethan when he was a baby too. One that apparently still worked with him now on some level too. Some sort of … touch or smell or physiological response … that just happened when it was a child that was a part of you.

It made her wonder if her kids would have the same response to Hank. If that sway and ear rub would work the same way. If them being family – and him being their grandpa – would be enough. Or if you needed the blood to have that kind of physiology. If Hank would light up the same way as he did for Henry for her babies. Or if that was physiology too. And emotionality. Henry was a part of Justin. And he was a part of Camille. He was the remaining pieces of people Hank didn't have anymore.

And maybe it'd be different with her babies. She hoped not. Because she knew Hank only lit up that way for a few people. She knew that sometimes she was on that list. That she cheered him up. Supposedly. But she didn't just want him to light up for the babies. She wanted them to light up for him – to know him – the way she'd gotten to. The way Henry was getting too.

"Sorry," Erin said as she got to the top of the stairs – as she saw Hank and Henry swaying in the kitchen, Ethan propped up on one of the counter stools chattering at his dad by the stove. "Diaper change."

Hank just grunted and kept staring at his grandson who was still grinning at him and patting his cheeks, listening to his son, and apparently taking over keeping the skillet of sweet potato hash from burning on the stove top – shoving it around with a wooden spoon in his free hand. Multitasking in a way she also knew she was going to have to learn and than some.

But she shoved back into the kitchen and shooed him away. "My kitchen," she muttered at him.

He only grunted – but did move. Though, not before he fished a piece of the sweet potato out of the skillet and held it at Henry.

"Hank," she mouthed at him.

"We need to taste test Auntie Erin's cooking, don't we H?" he put to the little boy, holding it up for him to take while keeping a shred of his own.

"I just burned it," Erin said. "Jay's prep."

"How come I don't get to taste test?" Ethan grumbled and Hank just handed his half-bit piece over to him. Eth apparently didn't care. "It's good," he provided even before he swallowed.

"Is good," Hank agreed, giving a nod at Henry who seemed more than happy to be nibbling on his chunk.

"More," Henry said. Erin wasn't sure if it was a request or a demand. Knowing Henry, it was more of a demand. One that was likely going to evoke some more shrieking when he didn't get his way.

But it didn't. Not when it was Popa giving the response – or keeping grips on him. "Nope," he got. "Spoil your dinner. Need to save room for bones."

"Bones!" Henry cheered. "Pa-pa Bones!"

"Uncle Jay bones," Hank corrected and took him around to the other side of the counter – giving his butt a tap as he got to the ground. "Go play til feeding time."

Apparently another thing that Hank didn't have to tell Henry twice. Though, you never really did. He was always moving at about hundred miles an hour anymore. He was hard enough to keep up with – and he was just one little boy. Two? She was going to have to keep up with two kids. Two kids moving hundred miles an hour. When even if they didn't have Voight blood in them – they were going to be raised by someone who was raised by Voights – and she knew the kinds of hellions her and Justin had been. She knew the kind of hellion Ethan was now. And every day there seemed to be a knew moment where she realized, her and Jay … they were just completely fucked.

Getting back to Chicago wasn't optional. It was a necessity. Because she already knew – two sets of hands wasn't going to be enough. Not with two kids. Not with two kids who had her genes and Jay's genes. Not with two kids being raised by someone who was raised by the Voights. Hellions times two. Just like every fucking thing seemed like it was going to be times two. And she was pretty sure that meant they at least needed to double the amount of hands on standby to help too. And for the first time in … a long time … maybe the first time in her life … she was ready to start asking for that help, admitting she needed that help … before she was in some kind of predicament. Though, she supposed this was a predicament too. But she'd been in a lot worse predicaments where she should've asked for help sooner. This was a happy predicament … she hoped. That was what she was telling herself.

"Ribs look great too," Hank grunted at her, as he shifted his attention from watching Henry beginning to show reckless disregard to their living room again.

Olive had packed Henry's diaper bag possibly as full of toys as it was with other toddler supplies. Apparently she'd forgotten that they had a bin of boy toys shoved under their end table in the living space. Henry hadn't. And had promptly dumped the entire bin all over the floor about as soon as they'd gotten back into the house. But had still fussed until they'd added his drag-about toys that his mom had sent along. So in a matter of minutes their living space pretty much looked like a tornado had gone through it. And even after they got Henry to sit still with a screen-time bribe, they hadn't bothered to clean up. There really wasn't a point. Not while Henry was still there. Because the toys were just being spread all over once again now. And she knew that after Olive did pick him up, clean up was going to have to include looking under the couch and chair – and likely between the cushions and possibly behind them too. And that even then they'd likely still be finding toys shoved in and left sitting in random places for days – or weeks or months – to come.

And once again – that mess and that treasure hunt and that sitting down on a diecast card or stepping on a piece of lego or finding plastic dinosaurs sitting on your turntable waiting to take a spin – that was going to be times two. Times eighteen years.

"Going to want to check dessert," Hank grunted at her again. She gave him a warning look. But he just smacked. "Think you overfilled the tarts. Spilled over a bit onto the pan. Don't watch, dinner bell is going to be the smoke detector."

She gave him a little huff at that but flipped on the oven light and looked in.

"They look fine," she grumbled.

Hank just smacked.

She didn't know what they were supposed to look like actually. They definitely didn't look like the picture in the recipe they were following. It'd been a whole lot of chopping. It likely would've been easier if they had a food processor – but they didn't. Though, she'd definitely registered she should start some list of things they should maybe consider getting before the babies arrived – beyond the cribs, stroller and car seats … and clothes and diapers and change table … and the list just kept growing every day too the more she thought about it. She didn't think her and Jay would be the "make their own baby food people".

But maybe they would be. Jay could be weird about food. Not Olive weird or Hank following Ethan's diet weird. But definitely his own little level of healthy nut. Or at least he used to be. Right now might be … different. But after he got his head back on straight – after they got him back out of that hole – she was pretty sure that almond milk and hemp hearts and a whole lot of greens would again be populating their fridge and cupboard. So maybe Jay would want to be a "make their own baby food people". Maybe when that was also in the times two realm it'd just make sense and be cheaper. Though, she really had no idea how much baby food cost. How much did baby food cost? How much kid formula cost? How do you breastfeed two kids (she'd pulled a Jay and actually Googled that)? And did she really want to breastfeed? Maybe it just made good sense to breastfeed. Especially with seeing Ethan now and how inflammation and infection affected him. And knowing that Camille hadn't been able to breastfeed him. And what if she wasn't able to breastfeed at all either?

But … maybe a food processor would be a good idea. Though, in the thought process (that had mostly occurred when Jay had decided to try placing all the raisins, currents, apple, dates, candied ginger, dried apricots, orange rind, lemon rind and almonds in the fucking blender, which pretty much displayed: A) he was out of practice using his blender; B) he really had no idea how to make minced pie filling either and likely never had before. But they'd ended up with a sticky gob that had pretty much managed to bung up the blender. So they should likely be adding blender to the list of things they needed for the kitchen now too) it'd occurred to her that Olive had some sort of baby food processor thing. Maybe she still had it. Maybe she should ask about it. But maybe they didn't want to be that much like Olive and those "make your own baby food" parents. Maybe that just wasn't them.

Though, she also suspected that making fancy Christmas tarts was very much not them too. It'd been a long process and pretty much a disaster. But they were in the oven now. They'd get taken out of the oven when either the timer went off or the smoke detector went off. And maybe they'd be edible. Though, she wasn't going to place any guarantees on that. Though only guarantee that was certain was they definitely weren't going to taste like what Jay's mom had made him as a kid. But Erin also knew that most things never did. Though, maybe if these worked out in some way they'd be what their kids would think tasted like Christmas – at least when made and mangled by their dad (and maybe their mom and uncle).

"He's in his second outfit," Erin provided to Hank instead and nodded off in Henry's direction.

First extra outfit of the day ended up covered in flour when they'd also made the mistake of thinking they could manage being pastry chefs because the recipe looked easy. Wrong. They should've just bought tart shells while they spent their small fortune on the rest of all the ingredients. Though, Henry had thought playing pastry chef was pretty thrilling. In an edible Play-Doh, throw flour all over the place kind of way. And once again, it hadn't been lost on her that that – times two.

"He wasn't co-operating," she informed his grandpa who seemed to be his best wrangler. Or at least his second best. Though, some times she did think Hank did a better job than Olive. Or maybe it was more he approached it differently. As a man. Or as someone who'd seen and done it all before and had more than the two-and-a-half years experience of parenting that Olive was carrying around. "He pretty much squirmed until he had his all the way up his back. So he pretty much smells like shit."

Hank just gave her a look. There was a clear 'get used to it' message wrapped up in there. And that definitely hadn't been lost on her either when she was trying to get the two-year-old to co-operate with her downstairs and he'd been still set on go-go-going. Getting up while she had to turn to find the wipes – fully planting his ass and ball sac right in his pile of shit – and then taking off with the dirty diaper sticking to him until it fell – UPSIDE DOWN – thankfully just missing their area rug and hitting the hardwood. He'd still fought with her as she try to grab him and clean him up – ultimately getting shit all over his shirt – thus necessitating digging out outfit No. 2 from the diaper bag. She was pretty sure Olive should've packed three changes – because at this rate, she wasn't sure they were going to get through the next couple hours without having to switch him out again.

"Smelled like you got him cleaned up fine," was again all Hank said, though. And at least that was something. Though, she wasn't sure he'd fully managed to clean up the mess of shit in Jay's man cave downstairs. Much like she suspected to be finding little surprises in their living room – she thought it was likely there'd be specks and smudges of crap awaiting them when they went back downstairs. Though, she'd tried her best there too.

And again – times two. Two asses to wipe. Two squirming kids. Two toddlers to potty train. And the diapers. How much was that going to cost times two? How many would they be going through? How often would her or Jay be running to the store to find more? How quickly would they outgrow sizes? How long would they be in diapers for?

"Wasn't Olive starting to potty train him?" Erin put to Hank.

He grunted. "Has," he allowed. "But he's a boy. It takes a while."

Erin made a face and gestured at Ethan. "He was out of diapers by his second birthday."

"That's because I'm super smart," Ethan provided.

Hank snorted at that and gave the kid's shoulder a bit of a shake. But Ethan winced a bit at it and Hank's eyes examined him more carefully – more specifically the neck of his shirt and apparently spotted something he didn't like. He reached and pulled back his collar a bit – examining the top of the gauze that had been placed over Ethan's port the day before. Hank's finger ran over the tape.

"They used the wrong tape again," he muttered and looked at Ethan. "That red from the bandaging or your port bugging you?"

Ethan just shrugged at him and Hank gave him a sterner look and a smack. "It's just a little red and itchy."

"Mmm …," Hank grunted. "Going to take a look," he said and jerked at the neck a bit. "This off." He headed back into the kitchen, opening the fridge door. "Do his injection or pills yet?" he asked.

Erin shook her head. "He's been sleeping since about three."

Hank allowed another grunt and pulled the injection kit out of the fridge and cast his eyes to the diaster in the living room. "Where's his go-bag at?" he asked.

She pointed down the stairs and Hank disappeared while Ethan tugged off his hoodie and tshirt, and then sat there picking at the plastic tape and gauze covering up his port.

"Henry does tell you when he needs to pee," he informed her while he did it. Which she didn't think was entirely true. She'd changed a soggy diaper that afternoon too. Though, maybe she just wasn't on the list of people he was trained to tell. But Ethan did add, "Sometimes. And he makes poop face."

She raised an eyebrow at that and Ethan demonstrated for her. She thought it looked more like he was passing a stone – or possibly in labor – than taking any sort of crap. She was actually mildly concerned if that crunched up, red, angry face looked anything like the face Henry actually made when he was taking a dump. Because if it was, maybe they should all be a little more concerned about his diet. But the look did earn a smile for Ethan's sustained effort.

"I didn't see that face," she told him.

Ethan shrugged. "Well, he also tells you when he's pooped. But only after." He turned on his stool. "Henry. Did you poop?"

Henry looked up from what loading up a dump truck with dinosaur – that she was pretty sure he'd decided was actually a city bus. There'd been a whole lot of "da we-alls on da bes go wound, wound, wound, wound" along other nearly intelligible lyrics that afternoon. And in every instance it appeared as though the dump truck had been designated as the bus. Though, sometimes the bus sounded more like it was carrying the animals from Farmer in the Dell. Because apparently "da ticken on da bes go wack, wack, wack". So it was questionable what Henry's daycare was actually teaching him. Or possibly become evident that maybe the genes in the brains department hadn't exactly trickled down from Camille's lineage. Despite Hank's claims that Henry was "real bright".

Fuck. Daycare? How much would that cost? Times two?

The more the reality was setting in the more she was realizing that her and Jay were going to have to have a serious conversation on if they both were at a point in their lives and their relationship, and their relationship with Hank and the family, that they were ready to accept the life insurance money of Camille's that Hank insisted was her share. Erin felt guilty taking that cash in so many ways. Especially with Ethan so sick and knowing other needs he'd have in the future before this was done. And then just other levels – her own personality. Her own … issue with debts.

But she also knew that her and Jay hadn't been planning on a baby – singular – right now. They definitely hadn't been planning on babies – plural. There wasn't money set aside for bringing new life into the world – and supporting it. And they were spread pretty thin. With the mortgage and the cost of rent in New York. And the both of them doing the commuting thing at least once a month – likely more now – with living in different cities. And the condo.

And that was the other thing. If they weren't ready to accept the life insurance money – maybe even if they were – they were going to have to have a serious conversation with Olive about the condo. Again. They weren't going to be able to turn a blind eye on the months she couldn't pay the full mortgage anymore. And they weren't going to be able to pretend like the condo fees didn't exist and cover that on their own. If she wanted to stay there – they were going to have to figure out a way to get it up to her covering the whole thing (preferably without Hank stepping in because he had a whole lot of other things he needed to be spending his money on and didn't need to be attracting any sort of questions about where the money he was spending what coming from). And if Olive didn't think she was going to be able to manage that – then they were going to have to talk about getting the place on the market. Or at least subletting to someone who could manage the rent.

And that was going to be a hard conversation to have.

"I pooped," Henry provided. Apparently not a hard conversation to have if it was with the right person. Of which Ethan was clearly on the list.

"See," Ethan informed her.

"He didn't tell me that," Erin said. "I just smelled him."

Ethan leaned over his shoulder again. "Henry, you stink."

"YOU TOO, MY-EWW! MELLY!"

Ethan grinned at her. Like that was some great party trick he'd taught his nephew. Or maybe it was just pride in having the opportunity to apparently start him early on the poop, butt, fart and other dirty jokes that would likely be pending in coming years as Henry grew. Ones that she sort of hoped that Ethan would be around to teach her kids too.

"See what?" Hank rasped as he came back up with Ethan's "go-bag" – which was nearly as weighed down as Henry's diaper bag. Actually, it was likely more weighed down.

"That Henry is like maybe one-third potty trained, if you ask right and know what you're looking for," Ethan said giving Erin such a sassy look. A real gotcha.

Hank only grunted, though, and went over to his son, touching gingerly at the flushed skin around the port and its dangling attachments, that stressed Erin out just seeing. She didn't know how Ethan – and Hank – functioned in daily life without constant fear of tugging or knocking or pulling it out. Let alone infection. Though, clearly that was what Hank was fussing about right then. So containing the fear – only so thinly masked.

"Little warm, Magoo," he gravelled.

"Dad," Ethan huffed, "it always looks like that after the exchange. You know it."

Hank grunted. He started working on readying Ethan's injection – but Erin could see he was still eyeing the flushed area.

"So I told Dad about the cereal restaurant," Ethan informed her – apparently happy to change the topic and get attention off him. Not that he was entirely succeeding.

"Yea?" she allowed. She'd already heard Ethan's sputtered explanation of it as she was trying to clean up Henry's shit.

"Yea," Ethan pressed and looked at his dad. "And it sounds sick, right? A whole restaurant that only serves cereal?"

"Sounds like it would make you sick," Hank said and moved toward Ethan again with the injection on the ready. Ethan immediately positioned himself to take it – quieting while his dad jabbed him. Though, he started to ramble again as soon as Hank's hand moved away. But Hank stopped. "You still not a disposal bin?"

Erin nodded but then realized she didn't know for sure. "It should be under the sink in the bathroom," she allowed. And he again disappeared down the hall. Though, that time Henry charged after him.

"Got to give Popa some space when I'm doing Magoo's needle," she heard him rasp. Must've been another instruction – or rule – that Henry was used too, because he came running back down the short hallway and charged right back into the living room – throwing himself up onto the couch.

Hank reappeared – without the needle – so a bin must still be in the bathroom. Though, Erin made a mental note to actually get it disposed of while she was home, since she suspected even if it wasn't full they'd pretty much had a biohazard sitting in their bathroom since April. They should get a new one.

"Get dressed," he gravelled at Ethan that time – who was still sitting there bare chested motoring. Apparently the extended nap had fired him up. Though, Erin also knew from experience that would be short lived. His evening medication left him in a fog and Hank was already starting to sort out the pill boxes for that dosing.

"New York has a restaurant that is all peanut butter sandwiches too," Ethan informed him. "Erin's eaten at it too."

Hank cast her a quiet teasing look. "You eating there a lot these days?"

She allowed him a thin smile. "You think I can justify spending six bucks on a peanut butter sandwich these days?"

He allowed a little sound of acknowledgement. Ethan didn't catch it.

"So, I think now we have to go to New York," he said.

Hank gave him a glance. "Cereal and PB and J sold you on that?" Ethan nodded eagerly. "Breaking news, kiddo – can get that served up for you at home."

And Ethan lit up. And Erin could immediately tell Hank had been played – or he'd purposely let himself be played.

"So you'll let me have boxed, cold cereal at home?" Ethan put right back at him.

Hank grunted and gave him a look, shoving the pills closer to the kid and going to retrieve a glass to be filled with water.

"'Cuz, you know, Eva and her brothers, they get a box of sugary cereal every Christmas. That's their breakfast. Their tradition. I mean, that's kinda dope, right?"

"Dope?" Erin teased him and again raised an eyebrow, as she raised the lid on the collards she was supposed to be steaming. They looked less like collards than they did mush at this point. Maybe that's how her and Jay would manage baby food – just let her touch anything in the kitchen.

"So, if Dad will let me have boxed cereal at home … you know, Monday's Christmas." And he grinned more.

Hank just smacked at him, though, and shoved the water across the counter, nodding at it and watching as Ethan worked at popping the pills one at a time.

"Well, it's not like I'm asking for Garrett's," Ethan said.

Hank let out an amused noise. "You gone from thinking Santa should bring you an air popper to thinking he's manages Garrett's Christmas deliveries?"

"Yea, well, you know what else Eva and her brothers get every year?" he pressed excitedly. "A bag of chips. A big one. You know, because her grandma works at the factory. So her grandma had them all convinced when they were little that like her factory supplied the North Pole with chips for everyone. And that's kinda a lit tradition too."

"Lit?" Erin teased him again. But she got a glare that time.

"Pretty sure Santa will have enough treats in your stocking that you don't need cereal, chips or Chicago Mix in there too," Hank nodded at him as he pulled the gulped down water back.

"But they are neat traditions. Right?" Ethan tried.

Hank grunted. "Every family has their own traditions. Glad Evalyn and her clan have their own together too."

Ethan flopped on the counter a bit. "Dad, I never get cereal."

And that time it was the play Hank had been setting up for because he put his hands on Eth's head and gave it a little shake.

"New tradition," he allowed. "Glenn's. Christmas Eve morning. Extra large bowl. Your pick."

Ethan glowed a bit. "Really?" he asked.

Hank grunted. "And the other half of this new tradition – no whining about sugar rules Christmas Day. You'll get some treats – some sweets. And know what too much sugar does to your system. Especially after an exchange. We understanding each other?"

Ethan still smiled and gave a little nod. Erin wasn't entirely sure who won out there. It was likely more of a compromise. They'd both sort of gotten what they wanted.

"We'll still make cookies on Christmas Eve, though, right?" Ethan asked tentatively.

Hank sighed a little at that and scrubbed his face and leaned on the counter to get eye level with the kid.

"E, it's too much. Okay? You can't eat the stuff. Rest of us should've be eating the stuff. Would really rather spend the money and all that time on other things. Year where we're trying on some new traditions, right?"

Ethan stared at him. "So what would be our new Christmas Eve Day tradition?" he asked.

Hank reached out and felt his forehead and his cheek and again dipped his finger into the collar of Ethan's shirt. And Ethan sighed.

"You need to rest, Magoo," he said. "Glenn's. Maybe some movies when we get home."

Ethan flopped his chin onto his crossed arms at that and tried to get his dad a puppy dog look but Hank was already straightening.

"You got paper tape?" he asked.

Erin stared at him and shrugged. But she went to the bottom of the stairs up to the next level.

"Jay …," she called. It took a moment but the door popped open and he looked out at her.

"Dinner?" he asked.

She wondered how it was going in there. But couldn't really ask with Henry and Ethan right there.

"Do we have paper tape?" she asked.

"Ah …?" he squinted at her.

She just shrugged and gestured back over at Hank. "Can you grab the First Aid kit?"

"What happened?" he asked, crossing over to the bathroom on that level.

"Ethan's port is either irritated or he had an allergic reaction to the plastic adhesive they put over it again," she muttered.

Jay made a sound of acknowledgement as he appeared with the kit. There was at least one thing they already had in the house and wouldn't need to get in stock in time for the babies.

He came down the stairs and gave it to Hank, who zipped it open and started rooting through it. Though, his nose scrunched up.

"What's that smell?" he asked.

Erin gestured at the oven. "Your minced tarts."

He gave her a look and opened the oven – smoke billowed out. "Babe," he blurted, waving at the smoke but it was too late the detector got it (another thing that also apparently was ready and in working order in baby-izing their townhouse). "That's the smell of something burning."

He cast an unimpressed look at Hank and Ethan and even Henry.

"Told her," Hank muttered, apparently having found what he wanted and moving back over to continue playing Ethan's nursemaid.

"Well, I don't know what they were supposed to smell like," Erin defended and went over to wave a dish towel in the general direction of the detector. She had company. Henry joined her – jumping around and waving his hands in the air, all the while trying to make shrieking mimics that were possibly worse than the sounds coming out of the smoke alarm.

Jay pulled the tarts out of the oven and fumbled to find a place to put them down on the full stovetop and the counter space next to it that was currently occupied by the foil-covered ribs. When he did get them plopped down, he just stared at them. And as the smoke finally cleared to get the alarm to stop, Erin went over too.

"They don't look that bad," she offered.

He gave her a look. He clearly didn't agree. And maybe he was right. They looked a little … crisp.

"Erin likes burned things," Ethan provided. "It's like a favoring to her."

She swatted the towel in his direction. But he just backed away only to get a grunt out of his dad who reached to steady him and keep him still while he got everything back taped in place the way he wanted.

Jay only let out a sigh, though, and batted them a bit in place. Then he gave her a look – a softer one, a more present one than she'd seen out of him that day.

"Told someone earlier today that I wanted to be around for the disaster," he allowed. "Guess I am."

She allowed a small sound of amusement at that. A little smile and she let herself go in to see if he'd allow a hug – then, there, in their home and in front of their family – and he did. He loosely gripped her. Though he still stared at the tarts.

Erin stared at the rest of the space on that floor. At Hank creating his own disaster as he tried to play medic to Ethan – who was already a disaster. At Henry ripping apart their living room even more – making it a bigger disaster. He was a walking disaster. At the family they had already and the glimpses and reminders of the family that would be living there in too few short months.

"I'm glad you're around for the disaster," she whispered.

Because even though they were their own disaster too, Erin couldn't imagine dealing with all the disasters that already existed and the ones that were pending with anyone else. And maybe it didn't look so much like a disaster when she was in the midst of it with him anyways. Maybe it just looked like they were a bit of a messy. And that was okay. Erin could handle that. She was a messy person. And she already knew that even if Jay didn't love that about her – he tolerated it and he could more than cope with it. So a little messy – that was okay. A little mess – it'd just mean that a family was living there. And that sounded pretty good. If nights – dinnertimes – could look like that night, it all sounded pretty … dope, maybe even lit … to her.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **I put off the Ethan reaction chapter because I'm still deciding exactly how I want it to play out and to get a feel of the scene and the dialogue. Hopefully I'll have that nailed down soon. Part of it is I haven't decided who's POV (Ethan, Erin or Jay) that it would be best from. And/or if Hank should be in the scene or not.**

 **I might end up doing an update to the previous S05 AU scenes story that this spammed out of. I have a few ideas from the past few episodes that I might like to explore and capture. They'd be pretty Ethan centric. And different character POVs for a change of pace.**


	33. Fucking Sucks

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

"So, yea, I'd see it again," Ethan muttered at Dad.

The bigger truth was more like he'd have to see it again 'cuz it was just too hard to concentrate on the movie.

It basically went on forever. Like really forever. Like with all the trailers at the beginning they were basically there like more than three hours.

That was basically how much time he spent at school every day. That was long. And that was hard. On regular days that was super hard. And, yea, maybe this was only sitting and watching a movie but it'd been super hard that day too.

Sitting up and concentrating and trying to track everything on the screen when so many of the scenes were dark or just had really fast moving stuff. That was hard. Ethan knew that sounded so … fucking lame. Like just pathetic. But … it was truth.

And the bigger truth was that he really couldn't see a bunch of it.

It was just all kind of blurry. And that was just kinda life now. Like it was all one big blur. And maybe he could see a lot better than he could back when everything just went to spectacular shit. But it wasn't like he was seeing 20/20. It wasn't like he had fucking night vision. Even if like a lot of his life was basically just watching the TV now. But it wasn't really like he was watching the TV. It was more like he was listening to the TV. 'Cuz everything was just blurry even though he could sorta see it now. At least.

And at least they hadn't gone to the 3D show 'cuz then he'd probably ended up feeling like he was going to puke. Actually he might've even have puked. 'Cuz he kinda considered that even during the regular 2D stuff or whatever.

They'd sat way too close too.

Erin didn't want him having to go down stairs in the dark if he had to take a leak. It wasn't like they got to see it in a big theater when they weren't seeing it in IMAX or 3D or anything normal. Erin said they were seeing it 'normal'. Or 'regular'. Or 'standard'. Or whatever. Whatever people her age had seen at the movies when she was his age. But that was long time ago and things had changed. And seeing a movie in 3D was 'standard' now. Basically her whole definition of 'normal' was not the norm anymore.

It was like they were going to see Star Wars for old people. And they were seeing it at like the earliest morning show too. Like before their show was at 11 a.m.. 11 fucking A.M. on the Saturday for Christmas? On a long weekend? Who is up then? Old people. Like Dad people. And that was who was in the cinema too. Dad people. Like people his age who got to watch the old Star Wars. Not even people's Erin age who got to watch the old new Star Wars. Just Dad people. Who were totally alright with being up and dressed and out of the house at 11 a.m. on a fucking Saturday when all they were doing was going to see a movie.

And it was full. Not that it'd taken a lot to fill it. Since the old people screening of Star Wars was pretty much put in basically the smallest cinema in the whole complex. Erin said it was 'intimate'. Which just sounded super gross. Ethan thought if him and Dad actually had a decent TV – a TV like Jay's flatscreen – the screen likely would've been basically almost the same size as the theater they got put in.

But he guessed that maybe that was sort of part of the plan. Erin's plan anyway. 'Cuz then there weren't so many stairs and even though it was full there weren't so many people to like disturb if he had to take a leak. And like old people had to take leaks all the time anyway. Prostate problems. Or irritable bowel. Or basically old people stuff.

But if that was really the plan he only had take a leak once. And really like dealing with the stairs in the dark probably would've been better than sitting in like the third row. 'Cuz then he wanted to puke sometimes.

When stuff was whipping by. Whatever it was that was whipping by. He didn't really know. It wasn't like closer made it better really. But he guessed Erin didn't really know or get that. She only kinda knew and got so much stuff now. 'Cuz … basically she wasn't there. That was pretty much the long and the short of it. There wasn't much more to say about that. Not that he wanted to anyway.

Though, he would say the cinema was just so fucking cold too. It was like super cold.

He'd been freezing the whole time. Like shivering. Even though Erin had brought basically a ton of blankets. Ethan'd pretty much felt like a complete idiot under all of them. And they were sitting on the end of the row and basically blocking everyone with all the blankets. And they didn't even really help anyway. He was still cold.

But he was always just cold now. Like so fucking cold.

He never even knew how to explain to anyone how cold he was or like what it really felt like. Like it was deep. Like not just in your muscles. Like so deep that it'd gotten down in your bones. Like they were splintering 'cuz they'd been frozen too long.

Or maybe it was more like when you go out and play in the snow for a super long time. And your mittens are like soaked. And you've got snow in your boots. And you come in and you're kinda thawing out.

That's what Dad would call it. Thawing out. And he'd make hot coco for them. 'Cuz that's what Mom did when Justin was little too. 'Cuz Dad used to play in the snow with Justin. Ethan had trouble imagining that. 'Cuz Dad didn't play in the snow with him. Not that he remembered. But if Dad was playing in the snow with Justin, everyone likely more meant that Dad was playing hockey with Justin. 'Cuz Dad didn't really play. Not like play play. He wasn't so good at that kinda of stuff. Ethan knew that. 'Cuz Dad still kinda sucked at that with Henry. Even though he was good at doing other stuff that was spending time with you or working on stuff with you or just … basically being there.

And it was pretty much okay. 'Cuz it wasn't like Ethan even really wanted to play outside anymore anyway. He wasn't a little kid. And it was winter. It was cold. So that just seemed like a bad idea. Even though maybe if he got people to play outside and they got their mittens and boots all soaked and like that ice-prick of snow going down your back when someone was being a complete fucking jagoff and went shoving it down the back of your coat? Maybe if he could get everyone to do that maybe he could get everyone to kinda understand what he meant when he said he was cold.

Like you know that thawing out feeling when you're so cold and so frozen. Like your fingers and toes and cheeks are so cold that them getting warm makes them sting? Like sting so it hurts?

That's how cold he felt. All the time. All the fucking time.

But Ethan'd sort of given up trying to explain it that way to anyone. 'Cuz people just mostly looked at him like he was either crazy. Or just exaggerating. Or like being cold wasn't going to kill him. And he knew they were right. It wasn't like being cold was going to kill him. But he was pretty sure it was a fucking indication that this thing was trying to kill him. And sometimes it wore him down. It made it really hard to keep on existing. On his bad days. Sometimes he wasn't so sure what a good day looked like anymore. He'd even stopped telling people he was having a bad day or good day anymore. It was more like he was having a 'better' day or a 'worse' day. And even day wasn't exactly an accurate measurement. It was usually kinda of better to go by hours. It was more truthful. And just more fucking exact. Accurate. Accuracy counted for a lot.

Dad said that. And Dad knew how to use words. Use them judiciously. He said that too. He'd had to ask Siri what that meant. But he got it now. And he sorta thought that like judicious use also meant you were being more exact too.

Ethan liked the way Dad said things. He just made things easier to understand. 'Cuz even when he used words that he didn't know, he mostly just made sense. And besides when he talked to Dad he looked him in the eyes. So that meant he didn't need to say everything. 'Cuz Dad just knew how to understand that.

Like Ethan didn't think Dad thought he was exaggerating abut being cold. 'Cuz Dad saw him and looked in his eyes. But saying it still just got Dad kinda upset. Even though Dad didn't say that. His actions did, tho.

Like the next day Dad would come home with like a new heating blanket or thermals or fleece or pyjamas or a bigger oil heater or little grab packs for his hands and boots. And none of that really helped either.

So it was better not to try to explain it. It was better to just say you were cold. And sometimes it was better to just not say anything about it.

'Cuz Dad knew he was cold. Ethan was allowed to wear fleece pants and hoodies downstairs whenever he wanted now. Even if he'd slept in them. Even if Dad said they were sleep clothes or pyjamas. He was still allowed now. Just like he was allowed to stay in his pyjamas until like 11 on the weekends if they weren't doing anything before Dad would ask him if he was planning on getting dressed that day. Just like he was allowed to change into his sleep stuff after he got home from school and tutoring and RIC and all that. That Dad never said anything about it. Just like Dad never said anything about him taking a nap when he got home either. He actually thought Dad maybe kinda liked it when he did. 'Cuz Dad always said he needed to listen to his body. But thing was, a lot of the time Ethan just pretty much fucking hated most of the stuff his body said. 'Cuz it was pretty much bad stuff. That he hurt. That he was tired. That he was weak. That he was frustrated. And angry. And likely that it was slowly dying and it was telling him that too. Like cell by cell. It was like he could feel them breaking down. Slow but steady. Each and every fucking day.

But Ethan guessed at least he was allowed to wear a beanie inside now. So there that was lit. Or whatever. It'd probably rank as way cooler if he didn't like wear them with mittens. But he was cold. And Dad never said anything about those fashion choices anymore neither.

Tho sometimes when Dad got home, if Ethan was wearing like a thermal and a hoodie and a zip hoodie and a beanie and mittens Dad would come and sit with him. He'd wrap him in another blanket usually. A heating one. And turn it on. And sort of hold him. And grip at his hands. Really tight.

Erin had told him that when he was born Mom was pretty sick. So the nurses only let him go upstairs and see her a bit. So it was basically Dad down with him in the ICU for babies. And that Dad held him in something called a 'kangaroo hold'. Ethan had seen pictures. 'Cuz Dad did it even after they all got to come home too.

But it was weird, tho. 'Cuz he couldn't remember it. Just like basically everything to do with when he was little. Or to do with Mom. Beyond stuff that Dad and Erin told him. Over and over again. But Ethan did know that now there were a whole lot of times where Dad sitting with him and holding him so tight was about the only thing that made him feel better. About the only thing that made him feel sorta warmer for at least a bit.

And Ethan didn't know if he liked feeling the warmth of Dad's hands even though the warmth never stayed after Dad moved his hands away. Or if it was that he liked how tight Dad held him and his hands then. Though sometimes it was too tight too. Sometimes it hurt. And sometimes he didn't want to tell Dad that either.

Basically just like he didn't want to tell Erin that he hadn't really wanted to go to the movie that day. But he also didn't want to tell her that. So he hadn't told her that. 'Cuz he'd been asking her about going basically since they'd announced when the movie would be coming out. 'Cuz it was tradition. 'Cuz she'd only be home for like a few days. And that sucked enough. And he just wanted to make sure he got to spend some time with her. To not just be like 'sick'. 'Cuz he knew that stressed her out too. And she was way too far away to be all stressed and worried about it. 'Cuz it wasn't like she could do much of anything about it from the other side of the country. Even tho that really sucked too. Just all of it.

He still wished Erin was closer. He still asked her all the time when she was coming home. 'Cuz even though Dad did a good job taking care of him, he took care of him different than Erin. And Dad needed breaks too. He needed help too. Ethan knew that. And he knew Olive knew. And that was why she was trying to help. Even though she was basically not comparable at all to Erin's helping. Even some of Dad's helping wasn't as good as Erin's helping. 'Cuz Erin just was better at some things than Dad. Just like Dad was better at some things than her. And she was like a sister. And Dad was like a Dad. So it was different. But everything was all different now.

Ethan knew he was different now. Since what happened. And since him being sicker. Since Dad going back to work. Even work seemed different for Dad. And Ethan knew it was kinda pissing Dad off and had him pretty angry and stressed. So Ethan just tried his best to not like cause more stress for Dad than he already did. 'Cuz he knew Dad didn't really want or need some sick kid to be having to take care of all the time.

Some days it was just really hard, tho. Some days he just really felt it all. He knew how sick he was. He could feel it. So much. But he tried not to talk about it. 'Cuz Dad said that being sick wasn't how he was going to treat him. That he needed to learn to live within like the limitations you have and like your boundaries. And to live until you weren't alive anymore. 'Cuz while you were still breathing and your heart was still beating, you were still alive. And you just needed to feel it and experience and try to enjoy it and learn from it the best you can. 'Cuz that's what life is.

So he tried. He really fucking tried. But some days it was just so fucking hard.

It was hard too on this new medication. 'Cuz Ethan could tell it was sort of helping some things. He could feel that too. It was like he could think better. Concentrate and cope and function better. Sometimes. On his better days. Or better hours. But that was so fucking frustrating too. 'Cuz he just knew that that's what all this would be. It was his body betraying him and dying on him and stopping working right. Bit by bit more and more. But his mind was still right. Maybe it was even righter on this medicine and treatment. But that meant he knew what was going on. He got it all.

He prolly actually got it all more than Dad or Erin or anyone even wanted to like accept. 'Cuz he wasn't a kid. Tho, sometimes he still just felt like a kid. Sometimes he just felt like a really little kid. Or that's what he wanted to be. 'Cuz sometimes it just felt like it was basically just Dad who could make it better. Or just Erin. And Erin wasn't there much. And the stuff Erin was good at – the best at – like they couldn't FaceTime that. It didn't work.

And it sucked too because he couldn't tell anyone about any of that. Some of it he didn't even tell Eva. 'Cuz you can't be a Freshman and like be saying that you just really want a hug from your dad. Or that you really just want to flake out on the couch with your sister and watch movies all weekend. Or tell people about all that other stuff that him and Dad had that agreement on. The one about them just being the way they are. That Dad was Dad and he was his kid. So they just kinda had to learn to be comfortable with the uncomfortable and that they really didn't have to talk about. 'Vuz it was what it was. And that's sorta all they could say about it. Unless you wanted to vent and rant and scream and punch and cry. But Dad said that a lot of that was sorta of a waste of time and energy. Sometimes. Even tho he was allowed to talk to Dad about anything too.

But you couldn't talk to everyone about everything. Kids at school couldn't find out about any of that. 'Cuz then they'd basically destroy them more than they already did. Hate him more than they already did. But it wasn't like he talked to anyone really anyway. Accept Eva. And even Eva was sometimes hard to talk to. 'Cuz she was actually making friends. And her friends didn't want to be his friends too. And Ethan got that. It just sorta sucked. But it also didn't matter. 'Cuz he was only at Iggy's sometimes anyways. And people at RIC were sorta better. But sometimes it didn't really feel like he had friends there. And like even tho they kinda talked about their stuff. It was like they didn't really talk about their stuff. 'Cuz why would anyone want to talk about any of this all the time. 'Cuz if you do then you become your illness. And it was like he already felt like he was his illness a lot of time. And he didn't want to be. But it was hard not to be when it tried to control so much of his life.

And fuck that. Fuck it. Fuck all of it.

But he didn't say that to Dad and Erin either. Just like you couldn't tell everyone about everything. They were on that list. Even tho he told Dad lots. And he told Erin some. He didn't tell them everything. 'Cuz they already had too much of their own stuff. And they worried way too much about him and everything.

He'd heard them the night before. They likely thought he was sleeping. But he wasn't. He was just resting his eyes. Like Dad said.

He heard Erin asking Dad about the Woods guy who was always blowing up his phone now. Every time Dad forgot to turn it upside down when they were eating dinner or Dad was trying to pretend like him doing homework mattered anymore. Or when they were watching TV and Ethan was leaning against him and Dad pulled it out to see who was bugging him again. And was like almost always this Woods guy busting his balls. And it meant Dad had to leave a lot. Leave at night and leave on weekends and come home late. And it sucked. It just made things harder and lonelier. A lot. A lot 'cuz now when Dad had to be on the job or on shift or on rotation or on-call or acting District supervisor or all of that stuff it wasn't like Erin or Jay wasn't called in and would come over and hang. Or that he could go over to their place and hang. It was just him alone. Or it was him stuck with Olive and Henry. Which was kinda a mixed bag. It was good and bad. But Dad said you had to take the bad to have the good. And Ethan guessed that was true.

But he'd heard Erin asking. Asking if this Woods guy was going to even let him have a Christmas. And Dad just grunted. Like that was some kinda answer. And it made Ethan feel like Dad wouldn't get to be around all day. Or he wouldn't be there on Christmas Eve. Or all of it.

He'd heard Erin too asking if 'this' was what a 'whole new boy' looked like. And Ethan knew she meant him basically sleeping mosta the afternoon and then again after supper. And he knew she meant 'cuz of the plasma stuff. And it just meant she didn't get it. It was like it kinda made him feel better. But it also made him feel kinda worse right after it. But it sorta made his blood cells and infection level better and that kinda meant he sorta felt better for a while too. So it was sorta worth it. But even when he felt better it wasn't like he was actually better. It wasn't like he was really better. And all the other medication still made him feel kinda of sick and just made him fatigued. This fucking disease just made him feel fatigued.

Dad said he needed to listen to his body. Dad said he needed to rest. But sometimes it pissed Ethan off so much. Sometimes he just basically wanted to be normal. He just wanted to go to class. And he wanted to be doing training for ball. He wanted to be able to play ball that summer. He wanted to be doing rockclimbing and kayaking. And he just wanted to feel well enough to be able to enjoy going to a fucking movie. But that just wasn't how he felt. Not most days. Or most hours.

And he hadn't felt like it that morning. But he hadn't told Erin. 'Cuz he wanted to see the movie. He wanted to see it with her. And he wanted to spend time with her. And he didn't want her to worry about him. And he didn't want her to just think of him as 'sick'. So sick he didn't want to go to Star Wars after telling her he wanted to go to Star Wars. And he didn't want to wreck a tradition.

Ethan just really felt like he was kinda wrecking Christmas that year. He felt like everyone was kinda making adjustments for him. And like it meant they were giving up all kinda of traditions to do that. Even though they were acting like they were starting new traditions. Even though he told Dad he wanted to start new traditions too.

But Ethan just sorta felt like they were all kinda looking at him and thinking like these were one time traditions. Or like they were creating what Christmas would be without him. Sometimes it felt like he was sorta preparing for a whole life that would be without him. And sometimes that was really hard too.

But he tried. He really tried. 'Cuz he knew he needed to be strong for Dad. And fight for Dad. 'Cuz Dad was doing that for him too. And he knew that must be hard. He got that much. And he knew that Dad had already lost Mom and lost J. And that he knew Dad was thinking about what everything meant. 'Cuz that was on the list of things that they talked about sometimes but it wasn't something you talked to everyone about. 'Cuz it was super depressing. And it was just really scary to talk about.

Dad said that he wasn't afraid of dying. And Ethan tried to convince himself he wasn't either. But he was. He was really fucking terrified of it. Even though he tried to say things to Dad and think things to try to make it better. Like that maybe there really was some kinda afterlife. And maybe Mom and Justin would be there waiting for him. And all that. So it'd be OK. But he just wasn't really so sure that's how any of it worked. And sometimes it was hard to believe it worked that way when you could basically feel your body dying bit by bit more and more. Like you body would be dead but your mind wouldn't. So what happened when your body finally stopped working and your mind was still there? Where'd it go? It was just too confusing and scary to think about. 'Cuz whether you kept thinking and stuff but just not here or it just stopped it seemed really scary.

And Ethan worried about Dad too.

But he didn't want to think about any of that. Not at Christmas. But Christmas just seemed to just be making him think about it a lot. And he felt like everyone else was thinking about it a lot. But none of them were saying anything about it. 'Cuz that was fucking morbid. And not really all that Christmas-y.

So Ethan just kinda wanted it to be a normal Christmas for everyone. And if it couldn't be that he sorta wished that it could at least be like a good Christmas for everyone. But really all he wanted was what he said. What he told Dad. That he wanted a good breakfast and he wanted to stay in pyjamas and he wanted to stream movies basically all day. Maybe play a board game or do a puzzle or play with Henry and his new toys. But Ethan knew that he'd likely also just want to sleep and lay on the couch. But at least he'd be with his family. At home. And that was pretty much all he wanted really.

That was all he wanted then too. Right then. He wanted to stop talking about watching the movie again. 'Cuz he already knew he'd have to watch it again. When it got released and they could buy it or rent it or stream it. And he could sit close to it and fall asleep during it and rewatch it. When he could lay down under his blankets and with Bear. 'Cuz Bear was pretty good and making things better too. And he was pretty decent company. And he was even a pretty good service dog even though he wasn't a service dog but Dad said he had 'pet duties' anyway. And he gave Bear shit if Ethan reported that Bear had been 'negligent' in his 'pet duties' while Dad had to go to a scene and Olive couldn't come over and he had to be alone for a while. So sometimes Ethan just told Dad that Bear had been 'negligent' 'cuz it was kinda funny to listen to Dad give Bear shit. But sometimes Ethan gave Bear shit too. Sometimes he told Bear that after he was asleep he was supposed to keep Dad company in case Dad needed someone to talk to. Just like he told Bear that after he was gone he was Dad's dog so he they had to learn how to be good friends. And he needed to learn how to do his 'pet duties' for Dad too. And Bear tried.

Just like Ethan really tried to be able to watch TV and concentrate. But it was hard. So that's why it was better at home too. 'Cuz he could start it and stop it and go to the bathroom and watch what he could while he could see and understand it and concentrate. And be comfortable and not overwhelmed.

And Ethan would just like to do that right then too. 'Cuz he was so tired from seeing it. 'Cuz he was hurting so much. And he was just exhausted from trying to look OK and act OK so Erin wouldn't worry too much. So that everyone could have a sorta normal and almost good Christmas without him making it worse or harder for everyone. So he could be awake and comfortable enough to be able to participate and just be with everyone while they were there too.

So he didn't want to tell Dad anymore about the movie. 'Cuz he knew Dad didn't really care about Star Wars. And that he didn't really want a big explanation about the movie or the plot. And Ethan didn't think he could really explain the plot anyway. Beyond like that there were some pretty lit scenes and planets and vehicles. But the story seemed pretty confusing. He wasn't sure he got that.

Right now all Ethan wanted was for Erin to just come and sit down too. On the couch with him. And they could cuddle like they did when he was little. And he could get some of all the stuff that had been missing with her gone. And they could just watch something. And he could sleep. He could sleep and know that she'd still be there when she woke up. That she'd still be in Chicago for a few more days.

But he didn't think that's what was gonna happen. 'Cuz Erin had finally come into the room. And Jay had come with her. And they were all sitting there. And Erin was sitting all real close to him and looking at him like he'd done something wrong. Like she was gonna be the one giving him shit.

And life was shit enough. When he hadn't done anything. Nothing to deserve any of this.

And he told Dad as much.

"I didn't bug about a pop or popcorn or anything," Ethan protested.

But Dad just gave him that look. And he shifted his eyes at Erin. And Ethan knew then.

He so fucking knew. She wasn't coming back.

And now everything was gonna to be forever and really different. For whatever forever was left.

And that just fucking sucked too. So much.

But he looked at her anyway. And he waited for it. 'Cuz that's basically all he could do anymore. Just wait. Wait for all these people and life and the universe and the fucking Force make all these decisions for him that he couldn't do much of anything about.

It just fucking sucked. So much.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **So I had thought about this being the reveal chapter to Ethan. But part way through I was pretty sure I didn't want to write it in his voice/POV. Right now I'm still not sure if it will be Hank's or Erin's POV — but I'm sort of leaning toward Erin's.**

 **Hope you enjoyed a bit, though.**

 **Feedback is appreciated.**


	34. The New Maybe

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

"Hey," Erin pressed at Ethan. "You really think I'm going to bring you dad in here for a sit-down to rag on you about popcorn?"

He just gave her a look. She could tell he was trying to be defiant. But he was too tired. He was in too much pain. And despite what he was trying to convey all the look said was just that.

"You're sitting all close to me like you do when you're going to be all truth bomb. Tell me off and be all serious," he grumbled at her.

She knew he'd attempted to spit it at her but it hadn't come out that way. It'd come out as a mumble.

And Erin found herself again second-guessing if they should be doing this right now. She'd been weighing it all morning. She could tell he wasn't in the best place to be hearing it. That Ethan wasn't there to get this information – not in body or mind. Not emotionally.

She was sure he was going to be upset. That he wasn't going to take it well. And she'd been steadying herself for that. She'd been trying to practice her reaction to that. To prepare herself for it. To not … let it have its own emotional reverberations in her. Ones that she was pretty sure the babies would feel. Some how and in some way.

And her and Jay had talked about telling Ethan well they were out. So it was just them. Or maybe so he wouldn't make a scene. But it just hadn't felt right. It didn't feel like it was something they should be telling him in a dark movie theater and then expecting him to sit there and watch Star Wars. And telling him in the car? Where they weren't looking at him? Where he didn't have to look at them? Where he might go jumping out of a moving vehicle if he didn't like what they were saying?

None of those options felt particularly fair to him. Not that right now felt particularly fair to him either. Fitting him down like they were having some kind of family meeting. When they weren't a family that had family meetings. Not like this. But she was sure sitting like this likely had his mind going … everywhere.

Hank had said – or asked – that maybe she should wait until after Christmas. For both of them. And for all of them. If this didn't go over well. If she didn't get the kind of reaction she wanted. Or would prefer. More like she was about to get the kind of reaction she expected, she expected. But thinking that way was likely just going to make this a self-fulfilling prophecy. She was just going to have to let him react the way … whatever fucking way a sick, brain-damaged, slowly dying, old soul, teen-aged boy reacted to this kind of news.

And she didn't know how that would be. No matter what scenarios she ran through her head. What proper police planning she tried to implement in this situation. There just seemed like too many possible outcomes.

So she'd run other variables. She'd drawn on examples from her own life. She thought about how Justin had reacted when Hank had brought her home. She tried to remember how she'd felt when Hank and Camille told her they were were pregnant with Ethan. And how Justin had reacted too. She tried to remember the feelings and thoughts. She thought back on finding out about Teddy when Bunny had gotten herself pregnant and given her a half-brother that she never really got to know. She thought about finding out Annie was pregnant with Travis.

But this was different. Erin knew that. And none of those situations were exactly comparable.

And she didn't think it mattered when she told Ethan. There wasn't going to be a 'better' time to tell him. A time that would change his reaction in some way. Other than, she was pretty sure that the longer she waited to let him know and bring him into this and to try to talk to him about this, the angrier he was likely going to be at her about it. The less time he'd have to process it all and prepare himself before the babies got here. And the more likely he was to feel lied to and like she'd purposely kept it from him. And that wasn't going to help anything either. It was going to make things worse.

So even though she heard Hank. She understood what he was saying about waiting until after Christmas. But she also wanted to have a few days to be with Ethan and to talk to him about it. To talk face-to-face. So she could still hug him and assure him that even though this changed things, it didn't change how she felt about him. It wouldn't change that she was going to be there for him. It wasn't going to change who he was to her.

And she needed to be there for that. She needed that padding. She couldn't just drop this on Ethan and then head back to New York the next day. She couldn't leave Hank to be the only one talking to him about it. Or trust Hank to really accurately fill her in on how Ethan was doing with all of this in the coming months. Just like she knew she got completely abbreviated versions of how he was doing with his health and where he was at. Yesterday and that morning had proven that again. Harshly.

And she also wasn't going to be Justin. She wasn't going to leave it up to Hank to tell him about the pregnancy. And just let him dictate how that was done and any fall-out that came out of it. Ethan deserved better than that. And he was old enough for her to be truthful with him about this. He was old enough he was just … going to have to deal with it. Even if it was unfair.

She hoped it wasn't unfair. She hoped that adding to the family – now – didn't constitute selfishness. Or poor planning. Or … she just didn't know. The best she knew was that this coming conversation was likely to result one of three outcomes: negative, positive or neutral. That was about as far as she'd got.

"I do have something to talk to you about," she kept his eyes. But she could already see him stiffening and drawing away from her.

"Can we do this later," he mumbled even more and his eyes moved to his dad. But Hank only grunted and gave his head a little shake.

Ethan sunk more and Erin reached to try to put her hand on his knee. But he drew it back.

"I'm tired," he muttered. "I don't feel well."

"I know," Erin acknowledged and gripped her arm over the back of the couch instead. She briefly found Jay's eyes. But he looked to apprehensive about this conversation too. He hadn't been able to provide much in the way of feedback in how to do this. "But I'd—"

"I know," Ethan managed to push out. "You aren't coming back. You're staying in New York."

Erin shook her head quickly and reached to squeeze his toes. To ground both of them with some touch. But he tried to get out of that grip too. "That's not what this is about."

He stared at her and his eyes rotated to his dad again. "They don't want to be here Christmas morning either," he said so softly and brokenly that it sounded like he'd already cried all the tears he could manage about that.

Hank made a sound and sat a bit straighter, as Erin's eyes darted to him in confusion. "Olive is thinking her and H will come over a bit closer to lunch," he provided.

Erin shook her head at that and gaped. "What? Why?"

"Just thinks it'd be a bit more comfortable for everyone," Hank gravelled.

Erin stared at him. "Because of the bedrooms?" she asked. "She can have my old bedroom. I don't care."

Hank shook his head again and she stared and then her eyes moved to Jay's. "Then … everyone can sleep over at our place," she pressed.

"You don't have decorations," Ethan whispered. "Or even a tree."

"We will put up decorations," she pressed back at Hank. But he just kept her eyes. There was a silent demand for her to not make an issue of this. "We should be together – as a family," she argued anyway. "We all pitched in on the—"

Hank stopped her. "Think the plan is that Santa will be getting a note telling him to drop most of H's stuff off here. Be here when they get here."

"It's not the same," Erin mumbled and stared at Jay.

It wasn't the same. It already wasn't the same. And things were changing again. They'd be different next Christmas. They might be even more different than having two new people added. There could be another person missing.

They should be together. Ethan should get to see his nephew on Christmas morning. Get to see him come down the stairs. Get to see him excited about Santa and stockings and treats and presents. For Ethan to get to share some of the family traditions with Henry. For everyone to create memories while they were still there to be had.

And she tried to process where Olive might be coming from. If this was coming from her talking to Olive about the pregnancy. If it'd gone over badly. If it'd made her feel like she had less of a place in the family. It hadn't felt that way. Erin could sense some sadness in the other woman but she'd been prepared for that. But she also thought Olive was happy for them. She hoped this decision wasn't about her – or them, or the pregnancy or the babies.

That she wasn't already wrecking – disrupting – was might be Ethan's last Christmas. And she hadn't even told him yet.

She wanted to talk to Olive about this. She tried to process that conversation too. To stall the urge she was having to get on the phone with Olive right then. Or to storm over to the condo and ask her what the fuck she was thinking. But she moved her eyes back to her brother.

"Ethan, I've watched you come down the stairs every Christmas morning. That's not going to change."

Every one. She'd been there for the one Hank hadn't gotten to see. She'd been there for all the ones that Camille hadn't gotten to see. She wasn't going to break that tradition. That wasn't going to be a change that Ethan would have to adjust to. She wanted to still be there.

"And I'm not staying in New York," she told him and watched his sad tired eyes come back to her.

"When are you coming home?" he asked. It was the same question he asked her every time they spoke. Every time they saw each other. And usually she didn't give him an answer.

"By the end of May," she told him that time, though. "Maybe sooner. Maybe Easter."

He examined her. There wasn't the immediate excitement that she'd hoped might be there. At the prospect of her coming home. But Ethan was likely too grown up for that. Too smart for that. He knew there was more to it. She could see him reading her and reading the whole situation. It was reflected in his tired eyes.

"To stay?" he asked.

"That's the plan," she said.

His eyes moved to his dad and sat there for a long while before moving back to her. "To work for Dad?"

"No," Hank rasped.

His eyes flickered again and he tried to process. "To work for Mr. Stone?"

"Maybe," Erin allowed. "Eventually. I think I'm going to try to get a coffee with him while I'm home right now and talk to him a bit about that."

"You could ask Evan's mom. Maybe," he offered.

She allowed a little shrug. "Maybe," she allowed.

But that seemed like just adding complications to an already complicated situation. And the work situation – the job versus the career versus income versus how long she'd realistically need to be home versus how long she could realistically tolerate being an at-home-mom – was something she was still working on. Something she was trying to come to terms with and figure out what made sense and how to negotiate that and navigate it. How not to get fucked over. Or to fuck her family – these two little kids – over in the process.

"So you aren't coming home 'cuz of work stuff?" Ethan tested.

"No," Erin allowed.

"So you're just like … coming home 'cuz New York sucks?"

She allowed him a small smile and looked at Jay. He gave a slow exhale and nodded at her a bit. Just barely.

"Eth," she said carefully and searched out his toes under the blanket again to squeeze. "I'm coming home because I'm pregnant and I want to be near my family to raise my family."

His eyes just flickered again. Back-and-forth under those Coke bottles of his that he still seemed to blind in. His eyes set on Jay for a long moment. This scrutinizing moment and Erin squeezed his toe again.

"Me and Jay are pregnant," she provided for him.

"But you live in New York," he said softly.

She allowed a small smile again. She knew he didn't need a lesson on that. On the birds and the bees. On the how this happened.

Though, in some ways, Erin still didn't really know how it happened even though she was there.

Even though she'd thought back on that weekend and Jay being over and the kind of visit it'd been. Just how broken he'd been that weekend. How vacant. And the ways she'd tried to comfort him and how they'd tried to comfort each other. And they'd tried to cope and tried to distract and tried to forget and tried to find strength and tried to move on. In all of it. In their fractured relationship and their changed lives and circumstances. In their individual confusion and pain that they were still trying to share and held carry as a couple when they hadn't really been a couple anymore. When they were even less than that couple in that article that Jay had read in the spring. The spring when it'd been him trying to reach out and grab her and she'd been too spun around to realize he was trying to grab on to her to keep himself from spinning out too. Instead they'd both gone topsy-turvy in different fucking directions.

That that weekend that fall they'd still been so far away. That they'd still been hurting so much. And angry with each other and at each other and at themselves. They'd been so far from their ideal – his or hers – and so fucking far from even knowing how to get back to anything that resembled their ideal even though they knew what their ideal – as a couple and as individuals – was. But they hadn't figured out how to reconcile that yet. How to make it work.

But they still cared so much for each other. They still loved each other. Maybe they hadn't loved each other the right way. The way a couple needed to or should. But maybe they loved each other a different way. Maybe that was a better way. For them. Or it was what had worked for them. Then. Maybe it was still what worked for them now. Because she still loved him. She'd loved Jay as her friend. As one of the best and closest friends she'd ever had. A friend that she'd shared parts of herself and parts of her life with in a way she never had anyone else. And even though neither of them had been perfect in their openness or communication – in their walls and their baggage and their holes – she knew he'd tried as best as he could in his broken and fractured ways to share pieces of himself with her too. That in a lot of ways he'd let himself be more vulnerable with her than he had anyone else before either. That he'd shared more with her than he'd had anyone else either. A woman. Someone who hadn't been there. Not when he went through what he went through in high school Not when he'd lost his mom. And not when he'd been on the fronts and in theatre in Afghanistan. Not when he'd lost friends in horrific ways. Not when he'd come back to a country and a citizenship that confused and angered him so much now.

And she hadn't been there when he'd shot that little girl. But she'd been there enough – she'd been close enough to him still. She cared about him and loved him enough – as her friend, as her best fucking friend – that she hadn't cared about the anger or the pain or the hurt feelings or the unresolved situation she had them in with her living halfway across the country, she'd still reached out. She'd still tried to grab him and to hold him close. And to help. And he'd trusted her enough – he'd recognized he needed her help enough – that he'd taken her hand that weekend.

He'd gotten on the plane. He'd come to her. And they'd tried to work through it. She'd tried to give him something to keep holding on to. She'd tried to help him find his feet and find himself. And to get back onto steady ground – knowing he was still the kind of man that she saw him as and knew him as. That he was still the kind of cop. The kind of human. Person. American. That he was enough.

And somewhere within that. Within that weekend that really was a lot of laying in bed in the dark and holding him while he tried to pretend like he didn't need to be held. Within that weekend where he cried and she had to preserve his dignity by offering no comment on it while she still wiped and kissed away his tears. A weekend that her memories really just consisted of blinds drawn and bad take-out and not letting Jay climb too deep into a bottle before she took him back to the airport and hugged him goodbye. When she hadn't wanted to let him go. And she hadn't wanted him to get on that plane. And she hadn't wanted to go into her own job that Monday either. Or back to her dark, empty, lonely apartment to change the sheets that smelled of him – and them. And sweat and sex and slopped beer and too much MSG from the crappy cheap Chinese that they'd eaten too much of.

And it was within that. Within all that mess that … this had happened. That apparently … life had given them something else to work through in trying to work things out. Something else to hold on to. Or hold on for. More reason for both of them to find steady ground. More reason to be … the people that they saw each other as, even if they couldn't see themselves as those people. To be the people they wanted these two kids to see them as and know them as and look up to them as.

This … moment … situation … that was … still proving to her again and again – that Jay was her best friend. That she still loved him. That he was her family. And she knew that no matter how this worked out – that even if he hurt her in the process –that she was still going to love him in some way. And that he was always going to be her family.

Just like it was slowly and surely proving to her they could do this. They could fucking do this. Because of the foundation. Because they had a foundation.

And she didn't doubt that they were going to have more moments where they were really angry at each other. Ones where they hurt each other. And they disagreed. That there were going to be lots of moments and ways they'd approach situations related to the kids differently. That in some ways she was pretty fundamentally sure they'd parent different. That sometimes he was going to be the good cop and she was going to be the bad cop. That in some scenarios one or both of the kids would have them wrapped around their little fingers. That sometimes they'd spoil them. And sometimes they'd be too much of a hard-ass or tight-ass. That sometimes their baggage would be showing in the decisions they made and the reactions they had. That they'd call each other on that. That they'd likely argue about it.

She was sure sometimes one of them would end up sleeping on the couch. Or they'd take some sort of 'break' – whether that was … going for errands or a beer or picking up a double shift or an extra tour. Just so they didn't have to look at each other or argue with each other or talk about it anymore.

But even in that Erin knew they had a foundation. She knew it because they were talking through this now. They were working through it. And it wasn't squeaky clean or romanticized. They weren't throwing themselves at each other or declaring their love or their overwhelming excitement about the babies or what go parents they'd be. She actually knew – she could feel – that they were both fucking scared shitless. That they were both lost. That they were both just trying to feel their way through.

But at least they were doing that together. And it didn't feel like a forced together. It didn't feel like … either one of them had been sentenced to this situation they'd gotten themselves into. It didn't even feel like a 'situation'. It just felt like … it felt like life. And she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing when you put it in the context of having a child. Having two kids. But it felt … better than a whole lot of that spring and summer and early fall had felt. It felt focused and purposeful.

It felt like there was a reason now. A reason on top of a reason on top of a reason. And reasons for them to have their reasons. Something more. Two little people more.

So that that's how this all happened. That that might be the reason this happened. If there was ever really a reason for any of it beyond the biology of it. Though, they'd – she'd – had some of the biology of it explained to her by the doctor like she was in some sort of middle school health class. Like she was an idiot.

That it was a timing thing. Not just the timing of Jay's visit and the sheer number of times they'd done it that weekend. Though, that likely increased their odds. It was the timing of when she'd had the fucking IUD removed. The fucking … choice she'd hated for while U.C. and apparently a bad fucking choice for when she'd decided to get that foreign object pulled out of her body. Because they'd neglected to mention that IUDs, when you yank them out, can not only leave your body completely confused on your time of the month that when it did decide to smack you with your period, you have a tendency to hyper-ovulate. And that she was the right ripe-old age for that to happen, with the right screwy menstrual history apparently another remnant bestow to her by Bunny from an unpredictable life, security, diet and nutrition along with shoving birth control at her from the time she was about twelve years old, and now the right BMI after again having weight and muscle mass fluctuations before and after she had the fucking thing put in. That she'd landed herself not only in a perfect storm to get pregnant but to potentially end up with multiples.

Had that been mentioned maybe … she didn't know maybe. Maybe they wouldn't have had sex that weekend. Maybe condoms would've mattered more. Maybe.

Maybe none of it really mattered. Because here they were.

It was what happened. And it was happening. She'd made that choice. She was going to see it through.

And she knew Ethan didn't want to know any of those details. That he didn't need to know any of those details.

They were details enough that her and Jay were running over. And even that seemed like a waste of breath. It didn't matter. Not really. Though, it seemed to matter to Jay. And she understood why. But she didn't want to dwell on that. She didn't want him to dwell on that.

The timing didn't matter. It'd clearly mattered. But there was nothing they could do about it now.

And maybe it was better this way.

Maybe it was better that she was just pregnant now. That she didn't end up having to worry and wonder for years if her body was even made for pregnancy. One that stuck.

Maybe it was better she didn't wait longer – years more – to be ready to try. Whenever that would've been. Whenever she would've been ready. Because she didn't know when it would've been. And she did know that she was in her thirties now. And she knew that she should start to feel her biological clock ticking. But she didn't. Not really. And maybe she never would've.

But maybe she would've. And maybe it would've been too late when she did. Finally.

So maybe it was better she didn't have to try for months or years to get pregnant. To learn she couldn't get pregnant. To have to contemplate and save up for other options. Options she couldn't imagine putting her body through. Because being pregnant – and the hormones involved and just how oddly hijacked she felt her body had become – was a strange enough feeling. It felt like it was relinquishing enough – so much – control to these two little growing people inside of her. Relinquishing control of her body to things she didn't have control over. And she couldn't wrap her head around doing that with hormone injections and IVF and whatever else women had to put themselves – their bodies – through to try to get pregnant when they couldn't get pregnant. And somehow that felt selfish too. Like this had been too easy. But it didn't feel remotely easy to her. This felt hard enough to her on some many levels.

So she tried not to think too much about any of it. To feel guilt or guilty. To question her motivations or the justifications. Or to dwell on just how hard it was to let go of some control of her person so that these two little people would be a part of her life. And just how much she'd be giving up of herself to ensure these two little people got to have a life too after they got there. But that part seemed easier. She felt confident about … sacrifice. She could do the sacrifice after they got there. It was just having to talk and coach herself through the bodily control part now. Day by bay.

But even giving up that control to these growing babies seemed easier than the concept of having to go through another miscarriage. A subject she already still found herself having to tell herself not to even think about that. To not worry about it. To not add more stress that might make it happened.

Because her age and twins and "stressful environment" already had her classified as a "high risk" pregnancy.

And there was still this voice in her that kept saying Hank and Camille had lost their baby girl when Camille was almost 22 weeks. There was still part of her that didn't feel like being in the second trimester now meant much of anything. That the babies could still come too, too early. That there could still be problems. That they still might not survive.

That there was still that voice somewhere inside of her that kept up her own mantra: That she was born into bad news. That bad things happened to the people she cared about.

But she couldn't think like that. Not now. She couldn't be that self-fulfilling prophecy. She had to be better and stronger than that. She had to find some sort of new mantra. One that didn't waft too much bullshit when said out loud.

And she thought that would be something Jay would be better at doing than her. Or at least he'd be better at smelling. Smelling it and calling her on it either way. He never pulled jabs about what she did to a bathroom.

Hopefully he'd be as good at changing diapers as he was at smelling the waft of shit. But he would be. He was. Because she'd already seen him clean up not just her figurative shit. She'd seen him clean up her little brother's literal shit. And piss and vomit. Without comment.

Because that's the kind of man he was. And he was the kind of man who was keeping Ethan's eyes right then. Trying to help her little brother process this and work through it. With her.

"Still been seeing each other about once a month, bud," Jay told her brother. "All it takes."

His exhausted face looked so confused. And it was his dad's eyes he searched for some kind of answers. But Hank just smacked at him. Or them. And Ethan slowly managed to look at her again.

"So … are you … going to get married again?" he asked.

And Erin heard Hank give another smack at that. And she glanced at him. But her eyes move back when she felt Ethan's cold hand land on hers. To see him staring at the engagement ring that she'd had move between a chain on her neck and a drawer and her finger intermittently over the past two years now.

And she looked to Jay for guidance on how to answer that. Because she didn't know. They hadn't used that word yet. She wasn't sure it was what either of them wanted or was ready for yet. And it sounded so stupid when they were talking about raising two children together – in some way. In a way that was at least going to see them living together in the townhouse when they arrived. For months or years. She didn't know. But somehow talking about the babies – what was right for the babies – seemed easier than weighing into … what was right for them. For their relationship. Like somehow they weren't connected. Like they could talk about what was right for the babies without talking about if their relationship should include marriage. But right now, she knew that just added another layer of complicated to a complicated situation. More confusion.

And she knew it must be confusing for Ethan. She was wearing the ring. She was pregnant with Jay's children. They still had the townhouse. They still loved each other. They were still family. She was confused too. And she was just starting to accept that love, marriage, relationships – long-term – family when kids were involved. It was confusing. It wasn't clear cut. It was just … a bit of a mess that you tried to polish off and make look pretty. That you tried to make work the best way you knew how. And that was what her and Jay were striving for right now. Though it was more like they were feeling around in the dark.

"We're still working on our relationship," Jay provided flatly.

And Ethan's brow scrunched up. She could almost hear Hank's voice in her brother's internal monologue: "Meaning?" But that wasn't what she got out of him.

"So you're having a baby in May or Easter or something?" he sputtered awkwardly.

"Babies," she told him gently and gripped at his ice-block toes a bit more. "We're having twins."

"… twins …?" Ethan stumbled like that wasn't quite clicking at all.

And Erin's heart sank a bit. It wasn't a negative reaction out of him. It wasn't him yelling or giving her the cold shoulder or him stomping a way, as much as he could do that anymore. But some how this confused non-reaction hurt too.

"Twins," Erin nodded. "We've got some pictures," she tried and found Jay's eyes in a silent request for him to retrieve them. "If you want to see."

"I know what babies look like," Ethan said flatly. And Jay's move to pull himself out of the chair stopped.

Erin held more tightly onto his foot. It was more for herself than him. It was to steady herself. To try to give herself some kind of moment. To try to offer him some kind of assurance. "Okay," she acknowledged. And fumbled. "If you want to—"

"It's two babies," Ethan interrupted.

"It is," Erin allowed. "It's likely a—"

"So you'll be a mom," he said flatly. So flatly it almost ached.

But she tried a thin smile for him and gave him a little nod. "I will be."

He nodded too but he wasn't looking at her anymore. And he shrugged. "I guess you'll be good at that …"

It was whispered and there was a hurt in it.

"I hope so," Erin tried. She was trying to make herself believe it. Every day.

And he looked her in the eyes. But they seemed so sad. "You will be," he assured – again at a near whisper.

She felt her eyes flicker a bit at that. Because it was sincere. Quiet sincerity. And that had to count for something. From Ethan, actually, she had to tell herself it counted for a lot. She'd raised him. She helped raise him. She'd been his big sister. But she hadn't been. Not for the past seven years. She'd had to be more than that. And it'd been hard and confusing for the both of them. This undefined thing she was for him. Not a sister. Not a mother. Not an aunt. And not some random adult or female role model in his life. Some sort of strange hybrid of all of that.

Maybe the sort of strange hybrid that she wanted Ethan to get to be to her kids. Not an uncle. Or a big brother. Or a random adult or role model. A hybrid that their family dynamic had given growth to. And maybe he at least sort of got that. That she'd achieved that weird dynamic with him. That maybe it gave her characteristics and lessons and skills and patience to be a kind, brave and unselfish woman – mom – that Camille had taught her to be. That the woman who wasn't her mom but was more of a mom to her than her mom had ever been. In more of their strange family dynamic. That worked as much as it didn't.

So she gave him a thin smile. "Thank you …"

But he looked down and nodded. And Erin moved a bit closer to him on the couch. He didn't pull back but he didn't look comfortable with it. But she still forced herself to find his hand and hold it.

"You're allowed to say what you're thinking," she assured him. "Or ask things you want to ask. I promise. No one's going to get upset with you. I know … it's kinda a lot."

His sad eyes came up to her. "Did you get pregnant so they'd let you come home?"

She kept a hold of his hand and shook her head. "No, Ethan. We weren't trying to get pregnant."

"You musta been," he muttered.

She allowed him a little smile at that and shot Jay a look, shaking Ethan's hand a bit.

"Your sister doesn't need to be giving us details about her sex life," Hank provided for them, though. "Know that's not how it works. Been over that it's a way people in relationships show they care about each other. And you know lots of people end up here unplanned because of that. Including you."

Ethan gave his dad a shy look. "But if they still care about each other and are 'making love'," it just dripped out of him like it was a laughable concept. And Erin could appreciate that. The concept of sex as 'making love' hadn't really been something she'd experienced until Jay. And even then it'd been a while in their relationship and they went through bouts where it very much wasn't. She was just again starting to realize how different and how good sex could be when there was 'love making' behind it rather than just sex. But that was another aspect of all this that Ethan didn't need in on. "And they made a baby – babies – then how come they aren't married."

It got a smack. But Erin also felt Hank's eyes set on her. Like he clearly felt it was a good question too. And she knew it was generally how he felt about the way of the world and what was best for a child to be born into. She knew he'd pushed Justin and Olive in that direction. She knew he'd prefer her and Jay head in that direction. And she knew in some ways it made sense. But it also didn't.

"Lots of people end up with kids out of wedlock," he rasped flatly. The acknowledgement of reality but the notably disapproval sat there. Reality didn't mean he felt it worked right. And Erin knew – having seen both sides – that he likely had a point. Or she at least knew that it took more than one person to truly raise a child. She did know that. She'd experienced that reality too.

"It doesn't make a lot of sense getting married when we don't even live in the same state," Erin offered. It wasn't really the excuse they were using. She wasn't even sure she believed it was a factor. That it mattered to them at all. But describing that kind of distance to a fourteen-year-old rather than the distances her and Jay were actually working through was just easier.

"But you're coming home," Ethan pressed. "You're using being pregnant to come home."

"I get to make the decision about when to come home. I always have," she said. Maybe it'd get him off the marriage thing. Because she knew there was no way they were going to be able to give him anything resembling the answer he wanted. Or even an answer that would make sense.

"But you didn't come home before," he said.

She nodded. "I needed some time away from the city."

"So you're only coming home 'cuz you're pregnant," Ethan said.

"No," she pressed firmly. "It's just giving me a firmer timeline."

His eyes set on her. "That doesn't make sense. You aren't gonna to have any time when you get home, tho."

She gripped at his hand. "Ethan, I'm always going to have time for you."

"Not with two babies," he said quietly.

"Yes with two babies," she squeezed. "Things will change. They're going to be different. But me having time for you – that's not something that's going to change."

"I already have to share you when you're home. With Jay and with Henry. And now you'll have two kids that are yours. And I need you."

She gave Jay and Hank and glance and moved a bit closer to him on the couch again. "And I need you," she said. "I'm really going to need you now even more than before. And you're going to have a little niece and nephew who are really going to need you too."

That Coke bottle stare set on her again. "A niece and nephew?"

She gave him a little nod. "They told us they're likely going to be a boy and a girl."

He stared at her belly. Just stared until she reached and scruffed at the little tuff just at the hairline above his forehead. The one that stuck there like some sort of stray matted bang. One that Hank should likely just shave off for him but likely couldn't bring himself to do that.

"You want to see?" she offered.

The Coke bottles set on her again. And she reached and smoothed down her sweater for him – displaying the little but growing bulge there. And his eyes just stayed there.

"So they're why you've been kinda fat," he muttered.

"Thank, Ethan …" she shook her head at him but nudged more at that bit of hair. That bit of hair that was driving her crazy that visit. That she so wanted to fix for him. To try to fix his whole head of hair. To set him down in the bathroom at the townhouse and pull out Jay's trimmers and just take it all off.

"Ethan …" Hank rasped.

His eyes went in that direction but then back to her. "You just kinda been hugging different," he said.

She made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Well, I was kind of trying to keep it a secret for a while." He gazed at her again and then at the bump. "You can touch it if you want."

He just stared at it speculatively. "Can you feel them?"

She shook her head. "Not moving," she said. "Not yet."

"Then what does it feel like?" he asked.

Erin reached and gently tugged his hand and set it against her belly. "Like that," she said.

And he stared at his hand. And stared. Until he looked over at his dad. "You knew already?"

Hank grunted. "Just told me the other night."

His eyes set back on his hand sitting there. "Are you excited?" he asked. And Erin prepared to answer but Ethan's eyes shifted to his dad. And Erin's did too. Because she hadn't heard that answer before. Because she wanted to know that answer too.

"Yea, Magoo," Hank allowed. "I am."

Ethan gave a slow nod and looked at her belly again, his hand sinking away. "You sure it's not just two boys?"

Erin smiled a bit and looked over to Jay.

"Don't want a niece, Eth?" Jay put out there.

Ethan gave a little shrug and sunk back against the side of the couch. "What are their names?"

Erin allowed a small amused noise. "Right now. Baby A and Baby B."

Ethan scrunched up his face. "And you think I pick basic names."

She shook his foot. "We've still got time to nail down our choices."

Ethan shrugged. "Do I get to help pick names since I didn't get to help pick stuff for your wedding?"

"That likely depends on what you think their names should be," Jay said.

"Dino and Blue," Ethan said immediately.

"Then, no," Jay provided. "You don't get to help pick names."

Ethan's eyes looked to her, though. "Dino for the boy and Blue for the girl."

And her hand landed on that tuff again. "What? Not Delta or Elvis?"

"Those would be dumb choices," Ethan muttered.

"Right," Jay said. "And Dino is the perfect name of any child."

"It's Italian," Ethan said and looked over his dad's way for confirmation. It got a grunt.

"Starting brushing up on your Irish names and we can talk," Jay put to him.

Erin could tell Ethan was thinking about that. Erin was actually pretty sure she could feel him starting to run down the Cubs' roosters searching out more suggestions. But she doubted that dinosaurs or baseball players were going to graduate to top choices when her and Jay got that far. Though, she'd take Ethan's interest in at least putting forward suggestions as a positive. At least for now.

And for the future, she reached and shook his foot until she got his reluctant attention again.

"Eth, you know how you wanted a story about your mom the other day," she put to him.

"Yea …"

"I've actually been thinking about her lots lately," she told him, rubbing her thumb over the top of his bony, cold, little hand. "And about all the stuff I learned from her. About being a mom and a woman and a grown-up and a family."

And his eyes just looked so magnified under those lens. It was hard to look at.

"And I've been trying to figure out how to tell you about the babies too. And I keep thinking about when your mom and dad told me they were pregnant with you. I wasn't that much older than you. And I'd only gotten to be home with you guys and part of this family for a couple years. And then … things weren't easy then. My mom – Bunny – she'd made things really hard and confusing then too. For me and for the whole family. And, I think … I know … when Mom and Dad told me you were on the way, I was scared about some of the stuff that I think you might be scared about. That everything was going to change. Or they weren't really going to have time for me anymore. Or that I wasn't going to be allowed to be a kid or to make mistakes and screw up anymore. Or that I just wasn't really going to have a place in the family anymore. That they were getting to have their 'real' kid and I was just … going to get pushed out."

Hank made a little noise and she looked over at him and gave a little shrug. It was true. They hadn't ever really talked about that. But it was true.

"And I probably worried about that a lot. I likely felt like those months leading up to you getting here was this kind of ticking clock. And I was scared what would happen when you got here. So I know … I know that right now can seem kind of scary and kind of confusing. And that maybe it's hard to imagine what it's going to be like. But, I want you to know, that you have been one of the best things that ever happened to me. You still are. You always will be. One of the best things to ever happen to me and one of the best people in my whole life. And as much as your mom taught me about being brave and kind and unselfish – you've taught me all that and more too. And really want you to teach all that to my kids. I want you to be one of their best things and people too. And, maybe … I don't know, but maybe, they'll end up being some of your best things too."

He allowed a fine little smile and a smaller shrug. It wasn't happy and it wasn't sad. But maybe it was more than a little subdued. A little melancholy.

"Maybe," he said.

And that maybe – it'd have to do for now. Maybe it'd have to do for always.

The new maybe. Maybe it was as good as it got.


	35. Communication

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin glanced at him as Hank rested his shoulder against the doorframe into Magoo's room. His girl was just sitting on the edge of the kid's bed looking in a bit of a daze. Had the kid's Dog gripped in her hands. E's fucking dinosaur wasn't sitting too far off either. Looked like the thing was giving the room a bit of a once over right along with her.

"Can downstairs isn't just for him," he nodded at her.

She gave him a quiet sound of acknowledgement but her eyes just went back to scanning E's disaster zone. The one that was never so much of a disaster zone. Ethan was a little too OCD for that. But still managed to keep it pretty cluttered with all his little obsessive collections. Was turning into a bit of an eclectic display going on in there anymore between the baseball, car stuff, dinosaurs and Star Wars junk. Definitely a room that screamed 'boy'.

"It's going to take a while to get used to there being one down there," she muttered.

Hank made a sound of his own acknowledgement at that. Heard her. It was taking him a while to get used to it being there too. Usually just came upstairs himself too. But the one downstairs was a bit of a closet. Maybe a little too much so with E's mobility issues. But still better than the kid having to manage to drag himself up the stairs when he needed to take a leak. Or to get there in time when he did.

And figured he was using the upstairs bathroom trip for about the same reason he did too. To take a breather. Sometimes those few minutes in the can were about the only break you managed to get with Magoo anymore. Sometimes it was all you got from parenting, period – no matter their age or their ability levels. So might as well let her get into the habit of making the most of those few minutes of privacy. Or enjoy them now while she could. Because also knew that for the first few – or more – years of kids even bathroom time didn't count much as personal time or private time. Those concepts just didn't compute with babies and toddlers. Sometimes they didn't compute so well with even pre-schoolers and grade schoolers. And teenagers. Unless they were arguing at you about their own right to privacy and personal. They didn't often see it was quite the two-way street you sometimes would like it to be.

But he'd let her have some of that privacy and personal time when she'd disappeared upstairs. That'd been a while ago, though. A good bit at this point. Toilet had long ago flushed and the water pipes rattled with it. But she hadn't appeared back downstairs. Been so quiet up there that he'd just assumed that she'd gotten tired of watching E sleep on the couch and staring at whatever crap he had up on the screen. That she'd decided to lie down a bit too upstairs. Rather than doing something more productive with the few days she had off.

"Know you don't need to stick around here and stare at me and Magoo," he told her.

She caught his eyes and gave him a shrug. "He's sleeping a lot," was what he got, though.

He grunted.

"You said that he usually had some good period in the days following the plasma exchanges," she pressed.

And he grunted again. Acknowledgement. But he knew she needed more than that. Explanation and clarification. Not that he was ever able to provide much of that. The doctors weren't even able to provide much of that. And the fucking disease just seemed to do what he wanted most of the time. E had good days. But they weren't exactly something you could schedule in your calendar. Even if they'd had some success with getting a bit of the bump in the days after the plasma exchanges previously.

"Think some of it might be the contrast dye from all the six-month follow-up scans," Hank allowed. "Used some sort of different one than usual so they could get a better look at his peripheral nerves and their roots. Had said it takes about forty-eight to seventy-two to get it all flushed out of his system. Always seems to feel tired, headache-y after the fucking lumbar punctures too. Sleeps more."

Erin gave a little nod but sighed and stared at him. "I wish I was going to be home for that follow-up with his doctors."

Hank shrugged. "Never seem to say much of anything at these things. Won't be missing much."

Her eyes told him that she didn't believe him there. But there was a lot of truth to it. These meetings with E's doctors just felt like a bunch of B.S. most of the time. A lot of grasping at straws. Hank didn't mind doing that so much. Not for his son. Would move as many mountains for him as he could. But E only wanted him to be doing so much of that anymore. They weren't in a pull-out-all-stops scenario anymore. Had to find some sort of balance between quality and quantity of life. Still didn't know how the fuck to do that. But did know that for Magoo a lot of it related to how much time he had to spend in the hospital versus how much time he got to be home and trying to enjoy the life he had as best he could. For him to be as comfortable as he could as uncomfortable as the kid looked anymore. So that changed the approach in picking what avenues to pursue.

"Likely will talk to the docs about his port," Hank offered as a consolation.

To give her a bit more. He actually thought he was going to mount an argument – with the doctors and with Magoo – to get the fucking thing taken out. Or at least switched out to something that didn't have so much crap hanging outside him permanently in the week following the fucking thing. Would ask about going the catheter route. Or just checking to see if his little boy's fine, sickly veins might be able to handle them ramming the things into his arms at these session. Knew it'd mean they'd be spending more time at Med the day of but would likely relieve some ongoing anxiety about the port and tubing and infection hitting his fragile kid.

"Might actually take him over to Med after dinner if it's still bugging him," Hank told her. "Been pretty red this time."

Infection and inflammation could be making E dopier than usual too. And that was a reality Hank wasn't going to fuck with or let his kid get in the habit of procrastinating on. Dealing with infection and inflammation – promptly – had to be a priority now. A life and death reality if they weren't watchful and addressing any problems quick.

"I can get Jay to call Will," she offered. "See if he can come by and take a look. Maybe it'd save you a trip. He'd be able to tell if you should be worried."

Hank grunted. There was a lot of 'yes' and 'no' to that.

"Jay headed out," he provided instead of getting into the whole 'yes' and 'no' of any of it.

Erin looked surprised at that, though. Maybe a tad upset. Maybe deservingly.

"He could've told me," she said.

"Think we all thought you were sleeping," Hank nodded.

And he'd gotten the impression that the outing might be a bit of last minute shopping trip that Halstead was trying to sneak by her unnoticed.

"Don't think he'll be long. Magoo wanted to go with him."

She looked even more surprised at that.

"I hadn't heard him back up," she muttered.

But Hank had already concluded that. Figured if she had that she'd have appeared back downstairs. That she would've appeared quick if she'd heard the clatter out the door too. Jay's truck's engine cranking. Or even the scrapper on the windshield. But there'd been no peep from upstairs in all that movement and noise downstairs and out the front door.

Hadn't heard anything out of her until about ten minutes ago. And only had come up to check on her then when she still hadn't come downstairs.

Hank knew Erin had a lot on her mind. He didn't mind that Jay had stealled off or that E had done the restless puppy looking for a walk thing. Meant he was getting a few minutes with Erin on his own. A bit of time to talk. To try to gauge where she was at and how she was doing. To not just have to look at the front she was putting on.

It was a good one. But he'd raised her. He'd watched her go through a lot. Knew her faces. Knew her body language. He could tell she was coping. Thought she was actually coping pretty well. But she still had a lot on her. And she should. Had a whole lot going on right now.

"Eth's felt well enough to go out?" she put back to him.

Hank grunted at that. COuldn't exactly wrap his son in bubble wrap. He wasn't exactly sure there was ever a day that E was 'well enough' anymore. But had to let him live. Had to let him learn his limits and learn to operate in them.

They'd spent a lot of the past couple years learning how to accommodate what his body could manage. Been relearning some of that this fall. There were pretty definite peaks and valleys for the kid in a day. And just plateaus. It was variable but there were patterns. They were in a peak period right now. E usually had a bit of an uptick in the 3 or 4 p.m. period. Generally could get him through until about 6:30, 7. At that point all bets were off most nights. But there were a few hours to work on living a life with him. Worked better when he had a rest. Even better when he let himself sleep. And he'd done that. So let him go out on his Secret Santa mission with Halstead. Or whatever the fuck it was the two of them were up to. Might just be that they both needed a touch of fresh air. Would only be so much for Jay with E in tow. But Jay had agreed to let the kid tag along. Better about that than his own J had ever been.

"Asked them to grab something to throw in the oven," he told her. "Going to give Olive a call and see if they want to come by for a bite too."

Erin made a little sound and then gazed at him more. "What's going on with her?" she asked. "Christmas morning?"

Hank allowed a smack and let himself come into the room and set himself next to her on the bed. He reached and took the raggedy stuffed dog out of her hands. Fucking thing had seen a whole lot of love and abuse over the years.

"Is it because of …" she gestured at her little pregnancy bump.

"Mmm …," Hank acknowledged and handed the mangled mutt back to her. "Get the impression her and her sister had a bit of a thing over the phone yesterday."

"Meaning?" Erin pressed.

"Family politics. Sibling dynamic," he rasped and shrugged. "Who knows."

"So some fight with her sister and she's not coming for Christmas morning?" Erin demanded.

Hank scrubbed his face a bit too and stared across the room. Did his best to try to spot what she'd been looking at. But he gazed through E's room a lot. Picking out the bits and pieces of his son he still had and the pieces of his other son that were still left in there.

These days it sometimes felt like the boys' bedroom had become the hardest room in the house to be in. It wasn't just the past staring at him in there. It was the future.

"I'm going to talk to her about it," he said. "Just gave her a cool down period. But needed to prep E just in case."

Erin made a noise. "It's selfish," she said.

"We get her and H a whole lot," Hank defended his daughter-in-law. "Her family deserves to get time with him too."

"And they're going to get time with him Christmas morning?" Erin glared. "What? Is she driving down?"

He shook his head. "FaceTime. Skype. Don't know," he allowed. "Have her aunt over to see the show."

"And what about us?" Erin argued.

Hank exhaled and gave her a little pucker. "E's rough in the morning. Up and down through the night. Sleeps in the front room a lot. Olive has a point. It likely is easier to just …" he shook his head. "People will likely sleep better, be more comfortable, in their own spaces."

"I'm sleeping wherever it is he's getting up in the morning," Erin pressed.

"Fine," Hank allowed. "You're an adult. Do what you want. But Ethan's not a little anymore either, Erin. And it's been a lot of Christmases since there's been a whole lot of tradition or magic for anyone."

She just stared at him. A real long time. "There's Henry …"

Hank nodded. "And H and Olive deserve to share some of that magic while he's little. Have some of their own traditions and memories."

Could see on her face that she didn't think that was too fair. For them to be missing it. But it wasn't too fair for them to be robbing it from Olive – or from his grandson either. To be dictating what Christmas should look like for them. Or to overlay a whole lot of bad memories in with the happy moments.

Erin would have her own chance to figure all that out on her own soon enough. And figured it was likely she'd come to the same conclusion as Olive with a bit of time. That having a few hours in the morning on her own with her own kids, making their own memories and traditions, might seem a lot more appealing than sitting in the hodgepodge mess that was family. There were some things that didn't need to be passed on. Other ways to make family time. Other times to have it.

Even though Hank wanted to see his grandson's face on Christmas morning too. That he'd want to see these other two little ones on the way on Christmas too. Even though there were a lot of ways he wished they could get in some time machine and he could have his youngest still coming down the stairs full of awe and beans. That he could go back and have those first Christmases with Camille and Justin when his oldest was a little boy and buying into all the magic and myth and lies and joys and excitement too.

But a lot of that was in the past. And a lot of the rest of it was still a ways in the future. Henry was old enough, bright enough, he'd be fun that year. But it'd be more the next Christmas, the few after, that he'd be a real joy to watch on Christmas morning. And Olive may have changed her tune by then. A whole lot may have changed by then. Will have changed. At least there'd be two more little people on the scene. And hopefully – was going to have to hope – it wouldn't be less people in the front room those mornings in Christmas Future.

"H not here at the crack of dawn, can do the set up the front room after E's up and on the go," he offered. "Makes a lot more sense for everyone."

But Erin's eyes just stayed on him. "And what if it's his last Christmas?" she finally said. Her voice betrayed her there and she looked away. "His last Christmas and …"

He gripped her hand on her knee while she clutched at that dog. "Erin, I don't think we've got to be worrying about this being his last anything."

She just looked at him with these hurt, watery eyes. He kept them, though. He gave her a little nod.

"M.S.," he told her. "Disease with no manners. Takes your body but doesn't have the decency to finish you off."

"He's so … jerky," she managed. "And tired and …"

He held her hand tighter. "Erin," he pressed a bit more firmly. "We watch his infection, his inflammation, and we're going to have him around a while."

It was what the doctors were telling him. It was what he was working to convince himself too. What he had to believe and work within.

That M.S. wouldn't kill his son. That it'd be pneumonia or an infection or sepsis or a stroke. Some fucking thing that would be a complication of the disease. Some fucking thing that'd get put on his death certification – no the M.S. Something that could be fifteen years down the road as much as it could just be around the corner. But Hank preferred to take the long view on all this.

"And we're just supposed to keep living like this," she muttered and went back to staring across the room. "He's supposed to keep living like this."

"Better than the alternative," Hank said and gripped her hand a bit more tightly.

She made a small sound and her eyes dropped. He knew they were watering again.

"He just goes on and on," she said and gestured across the room. "Yesterday, today. Star Wars land. And Disney World and Florida and deep sea fishing and the scuba diving. Going on a dinosaur dig. And ice fishing. And the fucking motorcycle and car show and getting his Learner's. And none of that's going to happen."

It was a question. Her eyes said that. Hank smacked but held at her hand.

"I'll try to make some of it happen for him," he rasped. Low. Didn't want to say anything really. But knew he had to too.

"Hank …" she sounded broken. "It's going to break him when … he can't do most … any … of that stuff."

He gave her a bit of side eye. "He's more capable than you think. It's just timing."

"Scuba diving?" she pressed at him.

He exhaled. "Right now – we're focusing on swimming lessons and letting him flip around the pool with a snorkel."

"He thinks he's going to Florida to dive for sunken treasure on pirate ships, Hank," she pressed at him with a touch of anger. "He thinks he's going to drive. He thinks he's going to have his fucking Learner's six months from now."

He just looked at her. "He wants to take Driver's Ed and go out for the exam," he shrugged. Fine. Let him. Normal part of growing up.

"He is going to fail," she argued. "He's not even going to get passed the vision test."

"And, he'll figure that out all on his own," Hank nodded at her.

"You're giving him false hopes," she put flatly.

And Hank smacked. Smacked and looked at her. His tongue pressing into his cheek to keep from biting it but tying it up enough to keep him from saying too much.

"Erin," he finally managed after giving himself a beat to keep from saying anything he'd regret. "Your brother has got to have things to look forward to. Things to work toward."

"He's got to be realistic," she whispered at him. "We've got to be realistic."

Hank set himself back a bit on the bed and reached to retrieve the ugly fucking dinosaur from a couple Christmases ago. The one that still made too many trips to the hospital with them like it was some kind of lucky charm.

"Realistically, your brother has spent a lot of his life defying the odds," Hank said. "And, going to keep making sure I give him as many tools and opportunities as I realistically can so he can keep doing that, Erin. So he can keep living the life he's got with the kinds of hopes and dreams and goals that aren't too far off what most kids his age are thinking about."

Vacation. Job. Licence. Adventure. Some risk-taking. Pretty standard teen-aged stuff. Not that different from the hopes and dreams and goals and wants and needs and demands that he had Justin and Erin spouting at him when they were fourteen and fifteen and sixteen years old either.

He – Camille – they'd tried their best then – realistically. He was still trying his best – realistically – with E. Even though with Magoo there were a lot more grey areas and question marks about his future. Some times it felt like he was trying to help his kid get to a future that wouldn't actually be there. Least one that Ethan might not actually be there for. But kept trying. Kept planning. Kept moving forward. You don't runaway.

He was talking to the people at Field. Connections that Camille had made long ago that were paying dividends now. People who'd hopefully help her little boy in the coming years. Give him something to keep dreaming for and reaching for. Give him volunteer hours and an internship and a part-time job. To find something for him to do in that building that would give him some worth and some income and some meaning when he was done with school.

He was talking to the guy managing Camille's dad's old shop these days. Tossing Nico's name around like it still carried some weight. And it did. Enough. Or his own years in the neighborhood carried enough. Or E's M.S. diagnosis carried enough. Because the guy over there these days – turned out he had M.S. too. Relapsing, remitting kind. And hadn't been diagnosed until he was into his forties. But still carried some empathy about it. Maybe some sympathy. And maybe it'd be another foot in the door to let Magoo keep puttering in his skill sets and interests. To get a bit more work here and there with someone who was understanding of his limitations.

Because his girl should know – when the door won't work, you find a window.

Calls and favors and bribes and debts. Hank knew he'd be tapping into a lot of them in the coming years. Finding every window he could for his child. So he could have the best life he could manage in the years he had left. Both him and Magoo.

"Realistically, I don't need you worrying about any of this," he put to Erin.

"It's hard not to worry, Hank," she said.

"I know," he allowed. "But you've got your own life to live, Kiddo. Got your own responsibilities. Need to focus on that now. Take care of yourself. For those babies."

She gave him a weak smile. "And what about my little brother who 'needs' me?"

He grunted some acknowledgement. He knew that it was all mixed up. He knew that Ethan needed his sister. Knew that Erin needed Ethan too. And knew that family needed her. Had seen that clearly. But it was a mess of emotions and roles and titles. A kid growing up without his mom around who had an older sister who'd filled a lot of the mothering vacancies in E's life. Or at least she'd provided that feminine touch and female role model for his son. In a whole lot of ways. Comfort.

But Erin also had to just remember that as little as E looked and as immature he could still be – he was more grown up than he seemed at times. He had to be. And even taking that out of the equation – he was a teenager. And teenagers – no matter how grounded they might be or how much shit they'd gone through – jumped real quick to 'how does this affect me?' And E's concerns about 'time sharing' and 'needs' was a real reflection of that.

"Actually thought that chat went pretty well," Hank said.

She sighed at him and gave him a look. But he did. Had fully expected that it would go a lot worse than it did. That there'd be more confusion and upset and apprehension and hurt feelings and needy 'needs' than there had been. But that was E. Not much surprised Hank but his son did a good job at surprising him. At least most of the time it was in pleasant ways.

"He sounds more and more like you every day," she mouthed at him.

"Meaning?" Hank put right back.

Her eyes stayed on him. "I know you think we should get married."

He just smacked at that. "Your life, Erin."

"Hank, you were handing Justin Camille's ring and telling him to make an honest woman out of her when you'd known her all of two minutes."

And that just got another smack. "Sounds like you've got a lot on your mind."

She just shook her head and went back to staring at Ethan's walls and shelves. "How can I not," she muttered.

He stared at her. "You've always found your own way, Kiddo," he told her. "No matter what I told you."

She made a frustrated sound and slumped forward with her elbows on her knees. Her hands threading up through her hair.

"Talk to me," he urged. "How you feeling? Not about me or E. About all of this."

She barely peeked at him. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, Hank."

"Your own worst critic, Erin," he told her. "Always have been. But you've got to stop being so hard on yourself. Life's too short and too fucking long to keep that up."

"Two babies …" she mouthed silently.

"You aren't alone in this," he nodded.

"Jay's freaking out more than me," she put flatly.

"Mmm …," he acknowledged. "First baby … babies … that's how it works. But, the plan? You being back in the city, you're going to have help," he assured. "Both of you. All four of you."

She slumped and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Are you actually excited?" she asked quietly.

He patted at her knee, giving the cap a good squeeze and a little shake. "Erin, all me and Camille wanted for you was to get you into a situation where you could thrive. To let you live up to all that potential we saw in you. That we were willing to sacrifice for. And, guess we hoped in that environment you'd be able to make a life for yourself where you'd get some security and some happiness."

She made a little noise and kept her eyes away from him.

"And I know it's not perfect. Not life as you imagined it or maybe not the exact life me and Camille imagined for you. But you've still made me real proud. I know Camille would've been real proud of you too. And, even though the whole situation hasn't been ideal for anyone, I've been really proud watching how you've been working at reshaping your life this year. I know it's been hard on you. But, right now, you've got me feeling like New York might actually be good for something."

He got some side-eye. "You didn't answer my question."

He gave her a small smile and reached real slow to tuck a piece of that defiant hair of hers to tuck it behind her ear for her.

"Erin, I tried real hard not to place an expectations on you about relationships or family or kids," he told her. "I knew," he nodded at her and kept her eyes. "I knew your childhood, what you went through, meant that that was going to be complicated for you. That it might not be something you wanted or ever felt really ready for or able to do. But I always hoped that you'd find someone you could be comfortable with. To love you. You deserve that. More than deserve it. Just like you deserve to opportunity to build a family of your own. Your way. To feel the kind of love and happiness that comes out of that.

"So, yea, Kiddo. I'm excited. I'm excited and happy for you. Excited that you're giving me some grandkids. Excited to have some new kiddos to be a pain in my ass. To meet them. Watch them grow. For us all to learn about them and see what they're going to contribute to this family. And, yea, I'm excited too – hopeful – that there might be a little girl in the picture. Cami would be too. Too much fucking testosterone in this family."

Erin allowed a smile at that. "You guys did piss her off a lot better than me most days. Even when she didn't like me."

He squeezed her knee tighter. "Erin, Camille more than liked you. She loved you. She knew we needed – she wanted - a girl in the house to raise a little hell. Did that and than some for our family. Still do."

She sat up straighter and looked at him. "If we don't get married before they get here are you going to be looking at us and thinking we're still just playing house?"

He slowly shook his head. "No."

She let out a slow breath. "The spring … Jay … put the marriage on indefinite hold."

"Mmm …," Hank allowed.

"And … we've been working on it. I've been working on … fixing … some of the mistakes I made in our relationship. And just … making up for the choices I made. But now he's dealing with his stuff too. And his head …"

She shook her head and looked away. But Hank just found her hand – the one that he had seen every visit for months now still had that engagement ring on it – and held it.

"Just keep doing like he told E," Hank gravelled at her. "Keep working at the relationship. He's not going anywhere, Erin."

Her eyes came back to his. "Kids … they'll change everything."

He made a sound. "Do and don't," he told her. "Husband, wife. Mother, father. Get titles because they're a job. Got to work at it just like any other job."

"I don't know how you and Camille did it," she muttered and gestured at her bump. "I don't even know how she did this part of it."

He gave a thin smile and stared at the little raised spot where his grandbabies were taking up residence at the moment. Wanted to tell her that none of Camille's pregnancies were particularly easy. Not the two that stuck and not the others that didn't. But Erin knew that. Just like she knew that in their family – that Camille – had felt it'd been worth it. And it had been. Because look what they'd made.

"You know our marriage wasn't perfect," he rasped at her instead.

"But you made it work," she muttered.

"Intimacy," he told her and she gave him a look. "Talk," he nodded at her. "About everything. Fight about everything. And then – make up." He set his eyes on that bump again. "Think there's evidence you've got part of that equation down."

Her cheeks got just the smallest hint of flush in them and she looked down to hide it. But didn't let go of his hand. Just like she didn't have anything she had to be too embarrassed about in this.

More embarrassing for him. Recognizing your daughter is a sexual being. Recognizing she's an adult. Watching her become a mother. An added layer of letting go just when you'd thought you'd loosened the reins and cast the kid from the cast entirely. Realized you hadn't quite done that yet. Maybe you never really did. Because now he needed to look after her and watch out for her not just because she was his kid but because she was the mom of his grandkids. And they'd be growing up with a mother in their life. He'd make sure of that as best he could.

"You've got a foundation with him, Erin," he assured her. "Different than what me and Camille had. But, it's there. I know it's intensely there. You've both been through a lot. So just keep talking. Talking, fighting and fucking … a lot of what marriage and raising a family is. In my limited experience."

She made a small amused sound and gave him a look. "We didn't get that little speech as teenagers."

He grunted and shrugged. Wasn't much point in saying that to a teenager anyway. Wouldn't be able to get it. It was a reality that came with time and experience.

"Camille was better at the speeches."

"Her speciality," Erin muttered. "But I don't remember getting that one from her either. I think it would've stood out."

Hank made a little sound and looked across the room, letting his grip release on her hand.

"Marry your best friend," Erin said quietly. "That was her speech. It stood out too." He stared at her. "I just don't think I fully appreciated it until … a few years ago. Maybe I didn't really get it until four months ago."

And he found her hand again and squeezed hard. "You don't need to over think this one. You know what you want. You know what you need for your family. So you just start going in that direction, Erin. Keep going in that direction. You don't need to keep looking back."

"What if it's still not the direction he wants to be going on?" she muttered.

"Then the man wouldn't be sitting in my front room, making food for my son, and prepping a bedroom in a townhouse he's got a mortgage out on with my daughter to be a nursery. He just …" he sighed and shook his head and looked her in the eye. "As a man – who married his best friend – I can tell you, there's something to be said about being with someone who knows your insecurities, knows your defensive mechanisms. And that's where the communication comes in. It's why you fight. It's why you push each other's buttons. But it's also how you just fucking make it work. You get to know where each other is coming from. And that's not something you're going to get with many people in your life. You let it get away from you and you might end up spending the rest of your fucking life looking for it. And it's not likely going to happen again. So, if the two of you have got those things, if it's jiving – the direction you should be going it toward each other."

"And what if it doesn't work out?" she said.

"Days are long and years are short, Erin," he said. "There's no time in it for 'what ifs'."

"What about Dino and Blue?" she mouthed.

"If you name those kids Dino and Blue or some other fucking frou-frou names - they're going to have a lot harder road in life than having a mom and dad who care about each other enough to be having regular blowouts," he told her.

Long and the short of it. She just needed to get there now too. Like most things in his kid's – kids' – life.

So he gave her knee another pat and got himself back up. He let her have the room.

"E's right," he told her as he took leave. "You are going to be good at this. You don't need to worry so much."

She gave him a little smile and a modest nod. Recognition. He just had to hope she recognized that truth in herself too.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **So. I was/am anticipating still doing about 5-ish chapters from this section of the story. But I'm thinking about jumping ahead a bit to the spring and near the arrival (and possibly the arrival) of the babies. It'd be a separate story.**

 **I am also anxious to do a few chapters from the Hereafter story, which is scenes set in S05 recast to reflect the characters as developed in this AU. There's been some moments in recent episodes that I'd like to explore.**

 **I also have heard that Stone is now on SVU. And that a Cassidy episode is coming up. I don't actively watch that show now but would be interested in reflecting on how that might impact this AU in this timeframe.**

 **And, yes, the names for the babies are starting to be narrowed down some. Or a lot. Depending on how you look at it.**

 **The next chapter in this story will be a Jay and Ethan chapter.**

 **I hope to do a Platt chapter too. Or I may save it for if I start a separate story set in the spring. Basically the concept of Platt and/or Burgess organizing a baby shower. And Erin subjecting herself — and letting herself enjoy — a baby shower. And if it'd be a co-ed situation given their situation and family/friends kind of an interesting source of amusement and reflection.**


	36. The Point

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Jay hovered by the truck's door trying not to hover too. Trying to let Eth do his own thing in managing to get into the truck and settled. To not treat him like a little kid. Or a sick kid. Or an invalid. But it was hard.

It was pretty visible the kid was struggling that day. He just seemed pretty tired and frail. Unsure on his feet and a little weak in a way that seemed to be making his usual tremor a lot more pronounced than Jay had seen in a while. Not that he saw Eth a lot the past few months but it usually seemed a little more controlled these days. Today the kid more looked like he was fighting against what the shakes were trying to do to his body and the weakness in his legs. It was making his movements seem jerky as he shook and steadied himself, tensing like he was summoning his strength for each and every step he took.

It likely would've been a whole lot easier – and faster – to tell the kid 'no' when he'd suddenly opened his eyes when Jay had told Hank he needed to slip out for a few. That he'd be back in about sixty. With Eth in tow it was more likely to be one-twenty. Managing the kid's speed and energy level and weakness. And just navigating parking spots and lines and crowds when they were less than thirty-six hours out from Christmas morning.

But he hadn't wanted to say 'no'. It'd be a message he didn't want to send. Some sort of statement he didn't want to give. Especially right now. And after that conversation. Announcement. That hadn't exactly gone badly but Jay wouldn't say that there'd exactly been a thrilled vibe off of Eth. Not that he thought anyone in the Voight family really exuded that emotion. Maybe Ethan did. Sometimes. If it involved dinosaurs. Or the Cubs.

Maybe they should've agreed that Dino and Blue were fantastic names. It might've yielded a bit more … something out of the kid. Rather than what they got. But given what they got – and given the past four months and more like the past six to eight moths – it was better to just go with the flow. Eth had wanted to come. Voight had seemed okay with that. So now they were trying to get what Jay had thought would just be a quick pick-up done in what had turned into an errand for Eth and an errand for Hank and all of it moving at the speed of Eth. Eth on a bad day.

At least Jay thought it was a bad day. It'd been another moment that had sort of driven home to him that he'd been more absent than he thought lately. For the kid. Not just lately. More like since July. And absolutely since September. So much so that Jay wasn't entirely sure this was a particularly 'bad' day for Eth. Hank hadn't been acting like it was. Over-protective, micromanaging mode hadn't been apparent when they'd picked him up for the movie or when they'd been back at the house after. Hadn't been apparent when Eth had decided he was tagging along on this outing. So maybe this was just what Eth looked like more days than not anymore.

Jay was sort of working on the assumption it was – even though that stung. And it meant that he was trying not to hover too much. But that'd been hard too. But he'd let the kid manage himself. Up until the point that Eth was struggling to pull himself up into the truck. He was just too short and too weak. And, Jay supposed, unfamiliar with where to grab to get a grip to get himself in and out of the seat. So he'd propped the kid up and basically lifted him in. Eth hadn't looked overly impressed about that but had mumbled some thanks. And Jay had taken that as his cue to just shut the doors and get around into the driver's seat and let Eth handle the rest of getting himself settled.

The kid was sitting there admiring the 1929 Ford hot rod 1/24th model painted like a police cruiser that he'd insisted on being taken to the hobby shop to buy for his dad. Jay was pretty sure that Erin had already picked up a couple things to have under the tree for his father-figure on both her and Eth's behalf. But Ethan had been clear that he was definitely getting this for his dad and he definitely needed a drive there to get it. So Jay had provided that taxi service too.

It'd been another realization that it'd been a while since he'd played any kind of taxi service or chaperone service for Eth. He really hadn't been present in the kid's life despite still being in the city and working for his dad and engaged to his sister. He'd really only showed up for him on the weekends Erin had been home and they'd spent their obligatory time over at Hank's place.

He was feeling like in a lot of ways he'd been just as absent – if not more – than Erin. He hadn't been particularly fair to Eth either in all the fall-out. He had things to make up for there with the kid too. It wasn't just Erin. Actually, Erin had done a lot better job at working to repair her relationship with Eth that fall. Jay was starting to realize he'd likely spent the fall layering on reasons he was going to need to repair his relationship with Ethan. Not that Eth was treating him that way. But Jay knew that Ethan didn't really interact with people that way at all. He was a forgiving kid. Or maybe it was more he'd just had too many reality checks in his life to get how people and the world worked. And he just went with it.

"Think Dad's gonna like it?" Eth asked him again as he cranked the engine and gazed into the side view mirror looking for a break in traffic to get back out onto the road and to their next stop.

"You know your dad better than me," Jay said. He'd already given that answer multiple times. The kid seemed really nervous about this purchase.

Actually from some things Eth had said Jay got the sense that the kid was anxious about everything he'd gotten everyone. Like each gift that he'd bought or made had to be as 'epic' as the labelling on that Hot Wheels city garage thing he'd spent too many hours working at getting together with Voight – and long after Voight had left with Eth for the night. It all had to be special. Or meaningful. And something about that – out of a fourteen-year-old boy's mouth and mind – just rang wrong. It stung too even though Jay knew the intentions were good. It was the reasoning behind the intentions. This quiet panic and anxiety jittering off the kid about all of it. It was hard to be around too. And Jay was still trying to figure out how to interact with it. This Christmas. Any Christmas.

Christmas was just hard. There was too much wrapped up in the fucking date. And holiday and memories and history. And family. Joining the Voight family had just added more layers to the baggage of the holidays. And now a sick kid and that floating question of time made it harder. Harder when it was already hard.

He'd found himself wondering some if it'd be even harder when the twins were there. Or if it'd be easier in some way. Because maybe the holidays could start to be layered with different memories. Better ones. Ones that weren't wrapped up in his own childhood or waiting for his mom to die. Knowing it was inevitable. And knowing she must've summoned so much fucking strength to force herself through Christmas Day so as to 'not ruin' the holiday. To not be an inconvenience. Or to mar that date for life. And despite that gigantean effort on her part, Jay wasn't sure it'd accomplished what she might've been shooting for.

He had to hope it'd be different with his kids. So fucking different. All of it. Their childhoods. Their holiday memories. Their whole lives. That his baggage or Erin's baggage or family baggage wouldn't mar their lives and memories and traditions.

"I think he'll like it," Eth rambled. "He'll likely put it in his office. I hope."

"Likely," Jay allowed.

Though, he didn't get the impression that Hank was much for clutter or decoration in his space. But had noticed changes in that since Erin had left too. Subtly. Though, he tried to spend as little time as possible getting stuck in Voight's office. Or even in his sights at work. He didn't need more attention on himself than he already had these days.

He already felt like he was under Hank's microscope. And now it was going to be even more so. Jay knew that. At home and at work. And the line of where those began and ended was going to be more blurred. Jay wasn't sure how long he could work in that situation. But he also didn't know what his other options were right now. If he even had any with the way the job was these days. With the situations he'd gotten himself into. The attention he'd brought on himself.

"Thanks for taking me," Eth said.

"Sure."

"We gonna go get supper now?" the kid asked.

"Ah," Jay allowed, glancing over his shoulder as he gunned them into the traffic. Out on the Saturday before Christmas. Stupid idea. Too many people with their heads shoved up their asses or lost in some kind of commercialized cloud that they weren't looking at what was happening two feet in front of them. "I need to stop at CVS or Target or something. Get some wrapping paper."

"Dad can likely give you some," Eth provided. "It's not like he ever needs much. But we haven't wrapped my stuff yet for people. He said we'd do that tonight. Since he basically wraps and I watch. Since he's so picky. Like everything has to be all the pattern lined up and folded real specific and symmetrical."

"Yea. That sounds like your dad," Jay acknowledged.

"He lets me hand him the tape," Eth muttered. "Actually, he'd let me do it myself too. But then he busts my chops about it looking like a 'dog's breakfast'. He says such weird shit. His sayings."

"Yea. That sounds like your dad," Jay allowed and cast the kid a look. Bit of a smile. "I think I'll just grab my own roll or two. I don't think Erin's wrapped yet either."

"But we can't get dinner at CVS or Target," Eth said.

Jay glanced at him in the passenger seat again. "There will be something there to grab."

The kid gave him a disgusted look. "Gross."

"Hank said he wanted something easy," Jay muttered at him.

"Dorites," Eth suggested coyly.

Jay raised an eyebrow. "Donuts for dinner?"

"They do fried chicken too," Eth provided.

"That you can eat?" Jay put back to him. He already knew the answer to that. But he still let the kid shrug it off. "Then no. Isn't your dad taking you out for breakfast tomorrow?"

"To Glenn's," Ethan said. "Not Dorites. Cereal. Not donuts."

"Seriously," Jay said and gave him just as serious look. "What's with you and food lately?"

Eth slumped against the window a bit and stared into the street. "It's just like … I'm bored of what I can eat. And I'm sick of everyone telling me what I can eat and should eat. It's not like some sugar or whatever the fuck gluten is or cow milk is gonna kill me."

Jay put his serious eyes right back on him until the kid gave him a glance and shrunk a bit from it. "You know what might kill you?" he pressed at him hard. "Eating too much of those things when you're body and immune system are down. Them causing inflammation. Or worse inflaming some sort of infection your system can't handle."

Eth looked at him – right in the eye. "At least I'd die happy and stuffed full of strawberry waffles and whipped cream. Syrup on the side. The real stuff. And hot chocolate."

"You really want that to be your last supper?" Jay pressed at him.

Eth shrugged. "YOLO."

Jay rolled his eyes a bit. He could tell Eth was joking. But … he'd say something to Erin. She'd say something to Voight. And again that sad realization washed over him that eight months ago … he would've handled addressing this with Eth on his own. He would've pushed it a bit more. He would've told him off. He would've been the adult and the older brother-in-law. And right now he didn't feel right about doing that to the kid. But he needed to get right at it again. Because he needed to be good enough at it again that he wasn't just doing it as an adult – he was doing it as a dad. And Ethan's dad – he didn't want his kid eating like shit. He didn't want to risk the implications that a few over-indulgences could lead to.

But instead of lecturing him, Jay tried a different route that maybe felt more comfortable right now. The tease. The sarcasm. The sass. That maybe sort of worked with Eth but he was pretty sure he wouldn't doling it out to his own kids quite the same way. He wasn't sure you could. Or could you?

"Could go to Stax," he said and got the excepted gagging sound from the kid.

"Take Erin," Eth said. "Now that she's like technically eating for three how much she eats there won't be as gross."

Jay made a mildly amused sound – because Erin did have the tendency to order like she was still a starving street kid when they got brunch there. Something that happened a lot before … the spring. Since they'd ended up in a development that was all of a five minute walk away from stuffing themselves silly. That despite them having every kind of breakfast food imaginable – including smoked salmon bennie – Erin still seemed to working on eating her way through their rather exhaustive list of pancakes, crepes, French toast and waffles. All of which were admittedly rather ridiculous sized servings that she never seemed to need much help with packing away and usually baulked about him so much as wanting to try a bite. He'd nearly lost a hand once when he'd attempted to fork a sampler off her plate of the butter pecan waffle.

But he still gave the kid a look. "Pro tip, Eth. Don't bust the balls of a pregnant woman about her weight."

"A pregnant lady doesn't got balls to bust," Eth sassed right back. Nature or nurture? But sounded like a resounding sign that he was Erin's little brother and that Erin had played a hand in raising him.

"You know what I mean," Jay nodded. "So just … don't tell your sister she looks fat."

Eth gave him this real teen-aged look. One that he'd clearly been working on and nearly perfected in the months Jay had been pulling his disappearing act.

"I said she'd been acting kinda fat," he clarified. "Not that she looked fat."

"Okay, well, whatever that distinction is, just avoid the word 'fat' when referring to her appearance for the next … I don't know … forever."

"There's babies growing in her," Eth contented. "She's gonna get … pretty much … huge. I mean, I've seen pregnant people before and they were likely only one baby people. She's a two baby people."

"Yea," Jay mumbled. "I got that memo."

Eth got quiet and Jay felt the kid staring at him. He ignored it for a block or two. But then gave him a glance.

"What?" he asked.

"Does 'working on your relationship' mean you aren't getting' married?"

Jay shifted his eyes back to watch the traffic and to watch for his upcoming turn in the darkness that had already set in around the city. As much as the city ever really got dark. He hated this time of year.

"It means we're working on our relationship," Jay said.

"Are you still mad at Erin about … everything?" Eth asked.

And Jay exhaled a bit as he was forced to put his foot on the brake and wait for the light – and his turn.

"No," he allowed flatly.

"No 'cuz mad's the wrong word?" Eth pressed.

Pressed in the kind of way and the kind of language that earned him another glance. Because that kind of request for clarification – Hank clearly still had the kid at a shrink too. But maybe that made sense. A lot of sense. Maybe Jay sort of wished – a little – that after some of the stuff he'd gone through in his teens, he'd … found a more productive way to deal with some of his emotions. Or at least recognize and express them in a healthier way.

"Hurt?" Eth suggested after thinking about it for a second. "You're still hurt 'bout everything?"

Jay flipped it back at him. "Are you?"

Eth sunk into his seat a bit, fiddling with the brace on his crutches while he stared at the boxed car in his lap again.

"Sorta," he said quietly and cast him some side-eye. "Like, you know … like we weren't enough before. For her to decide to stay or to come home. Before. But … like … now since she's havin' kids, it's enough. So I guess that's kinda good. Even tho we weren't enough before."

Jay stared out the windshield. He navigated the vehicle. He tried to process that. And a response to that. To pick out his own truths in that statement. And to try to pull out the factual errors. If there could be errors in how the kid felt about this. It was just the way he felt. And, Ethan was entitled to that. And it wasn't likely he was completely off-base. There were parts of that statement that Jay could relate to. Maybe more than he wanted to really recognize. But maybe that he really needed to recognize. To move on too.

The past was in the past. He thought him and Erin both recognized that. They needed to be focused on what the future was going to look like. Not for them. Or at least not just for them. For their kids. But even being forward looking – or putting down baggage – didn't mean you could just erase the scars of the past either.

"We've just …," he started, his hand gesturing off the steering wheel in some hand gesture that he didn't know how to make. So he instead gripped it again until his knuckles felt tight and white. "It's just a complicated situation, Eth. So we're figuring out how to make things work."

"Does that mean you aren't too happy?"

Jay cast him a look. "What? Like I'm not happy about the babies?"

Eth shrugged at him. "You just basically said not much."

Jay twisted his grip on the steering wheel and forced himself to let go. To reach over into the passenger side and tug at the cuff of Eth's beanie – to bring it down over his ear more.

"I'm pretty happy about the babies," he assured. It felt strange saying it. It was the first time he'd said it out loud. And it felt strange. It didn't feel like a lie. But it didn't feel entirely honest. Or maybe 'happy' just wasn't the right word or emotion. But he wasn't entirely sure what was. "I'm excited," he tried. "I'm just nervous."

"'Cuz it's two," Eth said again like that was a statement of simple fact. And it was a fact – but it still likely wasn't the right one in this case. "And one's a girl."

"One might be a girl," Jay offered with a thin smile.

The kid as really hung up on the fact there might be a niece coming at him. It was pretty clear that Eth would prefer if he was getting two more nephews. Jay wasn't sure if it was the concept of having a son or a daughter that scared him more. Both just seemed … challenging in their own ways. He wouldn't want to become his father with a son. But he wasn't sure he had any idea whatsoever how to raise a daughter. What to even do with a girl. Either way it sort of felt like – right now – there was a pretty significant chance he'd fuck them up. Boy or girl.

"Blue is a pretty good girl's name," Eth sassy at him with a real shit-eating grinning. Another nature versus nurture moment. Because there was Erin in that grin. And if her little brother had picked up on that – imagine what kind of sass, grins, smiles, laughs and dirty looks he'd be getting from his own kids when genetics were in the mix too. He had a lot to be nervous about.

"Blue is absolutely not a good name," Jay said. "For either gender."

"Blue's a girl."

"Blue's a fictional raptor."

Eth gave a little huff. "What about Owen? Owen Grady?"

"You think Grady is a middle name?"

"No," Eth mumbled. "It's a last name. But it could be a middle name. Owen Grady Voight."

"Halstead," Jay said and stopped. Halstead or Lindsay? Or Halstead-Lindsay? Or would Erin want Voight in there somehow or in some way? Halstead-Voight? Voight-Halstead? How the fuck did that work? He wasn't sure he liked the sounds of any of them. Halstead included. But somehow thinking about it – it struck a chord too that he hadn't felt yet. It gave him pause. But it wasn't one he wanted to stay stuck on – stuck in a car with Ethan. "Owen's already taken," he deflected.

"Huh?" Eth stared at him.

"Natalie – Dr. Manning – her kid's name is Owen."

"So?" Ethan spat like that was fucking absurd. And maybe it was. Maybe he had another point.

"Will's dating her."

"So?" Ethan mouthed again.

Jay just made a sound – maybe a bit too much of a Voight grunt … to much nature versus nurture with some kind of family ties rubbing off on him and sticking to him even in his absence – and pulled into the parking lot.

"You coming in?" he put to Eth. But the kid was already working at getting his seatbelt undone.

So Jay got out and went to the cart carolled and grabbed one, maunovering over to Eth's side of the car. Eth gave it a look as he got out and tried to get himself steadied with his crutches in the snow and slush in the lot.

"You need a cart for wrapping paper?"

Jay just pointed inside the thing. "You want to go for a ride?"

Eth got a wide grin at that and reached to clamber in but Jay swooped over and boosted him up above the edge, letting the kid fangled his feet into the thing before he lowered him down and twisted the crutches off Eth's arms. He handed them over for the kid to find a place for them next to him. They were going to look like douches but it'd get them in and out of there faster.

"Dad and Justin built a soap box for a derby when he was a kid once. It looked kinda awesome. The pictures. You ever do that?" Eth asked, as he got the crutches in place – like they were some sort of hand breaks – or the clutch of the cart itself.

"No," Jay said and swayed the cart a bit. "But collected all kinds of scrap lumber and bricks and paving tiles from around the neighborhood to build some killer ramp and stunt courses to fly out bikes over."

"Sounds like that'd be pretty sick to so a shopping cart derby in," Eth said.

And Jay took the hint and swayed the cart a bit more. He gripped with his toes as he bolted the kid forward. Eth threw up his hands like they were going on some intense thrill ride. And Jay ignored the looks – for cast back even dirtier ones – as they got up through the sliding doors and he slowed them down to a walking pace, despite Eth shaking the sides a bit and giving him a look like they should treat the crowded store like they were in a bumper car arena.

"Think about what we're grabbing for dinner," Jay muttered at him, as he oriented himself. For as alike as these fucking stores were they all had to lay themselves out just a little differently to force you to walk up and down every fucking aisile to find what you were looking for.

"You know dad is going to be all extra about you getting some kind of boxed, processed crap for dinner."

"Good thing I don't know what that means," Jay said. "And that they have a produce section."

"It's likely GMO."

"Made in America …," Jay said and started pushing, navigating them around the commercialized brain-washed masses.

"So is Will all excited?" Eth put to him.

"For Christmas?" Jay asked, staring down the first aisile and looking up at the hanging sign above. This was going to take longer than he wanted. "He picked up a shift."

"To be an uncle," Eth said. "Duh."

"I haven't told him," Jay said and then locked Eth's eyes seriously. "Eth, you need to filter this. No motoring. Me and Erin are telling people at our own pace and in our own way."

Eth squinted at him. "So what? That means you aren't telling Will?"

Jay pushed the cart hard.

"Whaddabout your dad?"

"No," he said and pushed forward again.

"You haven't told your dad?" Ethan said like that was utterly unbelievable.

"I don't have the kind of relationship with my dad that you guys have with yours."

Eth gazed at him all confused. Jay made himself not look at it. "Me and Erin … and Justin … we fight with Dad too. And get mad. But grandkid stuff. I mean, you're supposed to tell your dad that kind of stuff."

"Ethan, you – and Erin – worship your dad," Jay muttered.

Ethan skewed up his face. "That's screwed up. And we don't. Sometimes we hate him. A lot. Sometimes we fight with him a lot."

"It's not the same," Jay said.

"But he's your dad."

"Exactly," Jay said. "And my dad and your dad – they aren't in the realm of even being comparable."

"Is it because he's kinda like Erin's bio-mom person?"

"No," Jay muttered. "He's a different breed that's …"

He shook his head and looked at the kid's gaze that was shifting from confusion to concern. As the kid tried to process that unfinished statement. Because Jay never knew how to finish a statement about his dad. He didn't know how to explain it – him, his relationship with him – to Erin. He didn't even know where to start in trying to conceptualize that to a kid. A kid who had a good dad. A dad who was bending over backwards to try to take care of him. To take care of his family. Who pulled out all stops – rightly and wrongly – to do that. Who sacrificed to manage it.

"What's that mean …?" Eth managed to get out, still staring at him.

"It means I'll tell him when I'm ready to tell him."

"And what's that mean?" Eth strained his neck back to stare at him.

"That I haven't told him yet," Jay muttered. "That I'll tell him and Will when I'm ready."

"But he's your dad. And your brother. And you guys told me. And Dad. And Olive."

"Ethan," Jay pressed at him. "I'm serious. Keep your mouth shut. I'll be pretty pissed off if it's not me they hear this from."

Eth twisted in the cart a bit so he could look at him. "Does that mean that Will's not coming over tomorrow or Christmas? 'Cuz Erin's kinda fat."

"Ethan," he warned. Even though he could tell that the kid was fishing for a reaction.

"What?" he grinned. He'd gotten enough of one. "I just mean he might figure it out. Sometimes he seems almost bright."

Yeah, 'almost bright' that about summarized Will. Sometimes. Until women – specifically Natalie – were involved in his thought process.

"If he comes Dr. Manning isn't coming right?" Eth asked.

Jay shrugged against the cart. "I don't know. I'd assume she's got family obligations and her own traditions and routines going on with Owen."

"Good …," Eth muttered.

Jay looked at him. "Good?"

The kid met his eyes. "I don't think I like her."

"You don't think you like her?" Jay put back to him and raised an eyebrow. "What? You don't appreciate her bedside manner? Her hands too cold on your last exam in the E.D.?"

Eth gave him a little huff. "It's not like that. But, yea. It's like she's all holier-than-thou."

Jay allowed an amused sound. "Holier-than-thou? Now who has the weird sayings? Are you eighty?"

"No," Eth pressed at him. "I don't like the way she talks to me. Or Dad. It's all know-it-all. And talking down to us. And do as your told. And like our opinion – my opinion – doesn't count. Like I'm too young or too stupid to know what I want. And like Dad needs to be told stuff like he's all basic. When I think he likely knows way more about pediatric and progressive M.S. than her now. And it's not her speciality at all. She's said some dumb stuff. I can tell she's pissed Dad off a couple times too. He's made that face. Pissed in coffee."

And there was another Voight family saying.

"She's a doctor. She's just trying to look out for your best medical interests. And she is the E.R. pediatrician."

"It's not just that," Eth argued. "She's like one of those girls. You know. Like high school girls. Where she knows she's pretty so she thinks she gets whatever she wants and that she's better than you and can talk to you like you are either a retard or like she's just a real phony."

Jay stared at him. The sad part was he sort of knew exactly the kind of girls that Ethan was talking about. But he wasn't sure he wanted to group Natalie in that group. Though, he wasn't sure how much he wanted to defend her – or at least Will's relationship with her – either.

"She's had some hard knocks in life too, Eth," he managed. "She lost her husband. He was a solider too. She's a single mom."

Eth shrugged. "So's Olive and she's not like that. And I think she knows more about M.S. than Manning too. Will better not marry her or bring her for Christmas or any of that."

"I don't think he's planning on coming over for Christmas," Jay allowed.

He kind of hoped that he wasn't. He hoped he didn't have to see his brother until he figured out how he was going to tell him and what he wanted to say. And preferably that would be before Will saw Erin, because Eth had a point there too. There was a likelihood that Will might pick up on enough to suspect. Though, Will was pretty good at having his head shoved up his ass and being exceptionally self-absorbed. Especially if this was his first Christmas back with Natalie and he was trying to spend any time with her and Owen. His whole focus would be on trying to make that work and trying to get Owen to like him. The guy had already asked if a fucking Big Wheel Power Wheel was a suitable gift for the two-year-old of the woman he'd basically just started seeing again a month ago. He could be so fucking ridiculous.

Eth righted himself in the cart to gaze forward. "It's 'kay, you know, if you and Erin don't want to be over on Christmas morning too."

Jay put his elbows on the cart and trudged forward. "We haven't talked about it yet. Since the Olive thing. But the plan was we were going to sleepover and be there in the morning."

"Yeah," Eth allowed. "But it's okay if you don't want to. It's likely going to be pretty lame if Henry's not there. I mean, I guess me and Dad can just binge movies until everyone comes over. That's basically what I wanted to do anyway."

Jay rocked the cart a bit. "Okay," he acknowledged. "But I've been thinking about it a bit. Maybe the way we could play this is we do stockings and presents at mine and Erin's place. You guys could sleep over or come over when you're ready. But either way, set you up with my TV until Olive and Henry get over. Not coming downstairs. But your sister and Dad would get to see you guys come upstairs. To whatever Santa dropped off in the living room."

Ethan made a little noise at that but craned his neck back again. "I missed hanging out," he put flatly.

Jay let his elbows settle on the cart again. "Yea …," he said. "Me too."

Eth slide down more and gave him a grin. "Hellions," he said. Jay raised an eyebrow. "Dad says we were all hellions. Now there's gonna be more. We're gonna have a killer shopping cart derby. In like ten years or something."

Jay allowed a small amused sound. Though it was hard to imagine ten years down the line. It was hard to imagine what five months down the line looked like right now. To wrap his head around and envision it and to try to prepare himself for what to expect and to figure out how to be ready. For all of it.

"I don't think I'm supposed to condone my kids having a shopping cart derby."

Eth shrugged. "You will. You're pretty fun. Even when you're not. Like Dad." Jay straightened a bit at that but Eth slouched down more comfortably. "You're kinda a lot like Dad. Sometimes. Or a lot. A lot."

And it was a strange backward compliment. But maybe it was sort of comforting. Because if there was anyone who didn't seem on the surface that he'd be great at pulling off the parenting thing – while being a cop thing – it was Voight. But he did. If there was anyone he could pinpoint who'd made some fucking big mistakes but had still established enough of a relationship with his kids that they were able to keep having a relationship – it was Voight. So maybe … being 'kinda like' Hank in this instance wasn't a bad thing. Maybe it gave a bit of hope that he'd be able to figure it out and make it work and fix the parts that didn't work and get a bit of a redo. A second chance. Or two.

Maybe it even meant that some of what he was doing – even the parts he'd failed at by not doing – was working now. On some level. At least for Eth. And maybe that could work for his kids too. On some level.

"Maybe as long as it wasn't in the store …," Jay suggested and bolted the cart forward quickly to full arm's length. It earned a smile from the kid.

"Nah, it'd most definitely be down a hill," Ethan said.

And that got a smile out of Jay.

"Or traffic," he suggested.

"No way," Eth said. "Voight hellions use proper police planning. Ask Erin. She'll back me up."

And, yea, the kid had another point. Erin pretty much always made the best back-up. At least the best he'd had so far – in his career and in life. So now in family. Maybe she'd even back him up that a shopping cart derby sounded like a pretty fucking stupid idea. That maybe sounded like a whole lot of fun too. Another fucking grey area to exist in. That sort of – maybe – sounded kind of comfortable.


	37. Do You

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Erin broke away from the kiss and settled back into the couch, giving Jay a thin smile. But he draped his arm along the back of the sofa and stared at her. Concern playing lightly across his forehead.

"You alright?" he asked.

She allowed a smaller nod and let her arm snake up to rest over top of his. "I just miss this house, Jay. This city. This life. You."

His gazed stayed on her for a hesitant moment but his arm slipped out from under hers and reached to cup the back of her head as he leaned forward and captured her lips again in a brief but soft – sensual – kiss. He backed off and grinned at her. Such a shit-eating grin.

"This couch?" he teased.

She leaned more into the back pillows and smiled at him. "It is a pretty cool couch."

"In a pretty cool room with a sound system that's worthy of an artiste," he grinned. "So I think maybe you really mean … you miss your music set up."

She grinned at that and glanced over her shoulder into the little alcove that had thus far been exclusively occupied by her turntable and his high-tech sound system set up and her old school speakers and band posters and her inherited vinyl and flea market and thrift shop and garage sale and music store trolling gathering.

He had a point. She did miss that too. That part of it – of them – too.

Because it was a space that was so theirs - and so them right now. Playing a record – some of their songs – while they necked on the couch and listened to music and switched out the records and Jay's playlists and stared at the fake fireplace that Jay hated. In a moment that would be made that much better if they could be tugging back a couple pops from whatever craft brewery Jay was partial to that particular moment. But that wasn't a good idea for either of them. Not for the babies either. An addict's genes was enough. Too much already.

And staring at that space in that moment there was a quiet realization too that that little alcove of "them" would only be there so much longer too. They wouldn't want it there by the time the babies were crawling and grabbing and pulling out the records and scratching the vinyl and snatching their phones off the dock or toppling down the speakers and rearranging the sound-bar.

That it was likely only a matter of time before the shelves of records and CDs were replaced with bins to toss toys to try to create the illusion that their living room was neat. To give them a place to sit in the evenings. Only for all that kid and baby stuff to explode all over the space again the next morning.

That that bit of them would be packed up and moved somewhere else. Where in the house – or in boxes and storage – Erin wasn't entirely sure. They'd figure it out. One room at a time. Together.

Because the babies weren't just rearranging their space – THEIR space. It was rearranging their lives. And who they were and how they lived. And how they'd lived. Making space. Or filling the space with something different. Hopefully something better. Something more.

But for now – it was still them. It was still the past them. It was still comforting to be there. Calming. Not her space or his space. Just theirs.

"Maybe …" she conceded looking back to him and reaching to trail her finger tips down his forearm again. "I'm serious, though. I miss you. This. Us."

He gazed at her again. The gaped concern as he weighed that set on his face again. "Me too," he finally admitted. He slipped his arm away a bit and instead laced his fingers through his. "But you'll be home soon. Right."

A statement. But there was the question to it. So she answered. Immediately.

"Yeah," she said. "I will." She shook his hand in hers a bit. "I really am going to give Stone a call. Ask a few questions. And I think I might tell work – Cassidy – soon."

"Yea?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

She nodded and shrugged. "Maybe. I think I should. In the next month or so. Get it out there. Start setting things up. Maybe see if there's a realistic way to get back here before maternity leave."

He gripped at her hand. "I like that idea."

And she held at his too. She gripped it to try to let him feel some of her strength. And to try to feel strong. Or maybe to try to absorb some of the strength that he didn't entirely feel he had these days but that she could still see and feel pulsing below his self-doubt and insecurities. It was still there.

"Only seeing you guys once or twice a month …," he said. "It's going to be hard."

"I know," she acknowledged. "But you're still their dad. You still are going to be a good day."

"We'll just be starting the cop family tradition of absent parents early," Jay muttered.

"There's a difference between working to provide for your family and being absent, Jay," she mouthed quietly.

He gave a little nod but gazed at the little mound under her shirt. "Just feel like I'm going to miss it."

She gave his hand a little shake and tried to lightened the mood. Because she knew he was missing it. And she was missing having him there too. Having his help and his support. Getting to share this in some way. In a way that seemed more natural than what this pregnancy was going to look for them.

But lots of other people dealt with this. If he was still a Ranger, he might've ended up missing all of it. If she was there, he might've been on a big case or long hours and doubles or surveillance or U.C. There could've been weeks – or even months – where it'd feel like they barely saw each other. Like he wasn't much of a help or support. Just ships passing in the night. It happened. Not just cops. Doctors. Shift workers. People working multiple part-time jobs to make ends meet. Pilots. Truckers. It didn't really matter. Life in today's society – today's economy – only let you see each other so much. Share this so much.

He'd be there. She knew he would be. Maybe not as much as either of them would like or in the way they'd like. But they'd make it work. It's what they did.

"What I'm going to miss," she said and gave him a little grin and reached to tug at one of his belt loops on his jeans, "is that you aren't going to be as at my disposal when this predicted pregnancy horniness kicks in."

He smiled and leaned forward to capture her lips again. A longer kiss. A deeper kiss.

"I could get an early start on helping you out with that," he said, backing away to grin it against his mouth just a bit.

"Mmm …," she allowed and found and parted with him again. "You think it works that way?"

"Future deposits," he provided and leaned in a bit.

Erin let him for a minute. Or two. Or a bit more. Because it wasn't exactly that the pregnancy hormones hadn't kicked in yet. Her hormones and sex drive were a little all over the place. And she intended to take advantage of that while she could. While she was with him. Had him there. Before she was the size of a beluga whale. Or it got too uncomfortable or awkward. Or the doctor right out said that she'd reached a point in the pregnancy that they officially had to lay off. Before she had to push two babies out of her body – or had herself cut open to have them pulled out of her. And whatever that did to her … her body and her self-image and how she felt and perceived herself. Before she became a human milk truck. Or was exhausted from sleepiness nights and endless bottles and feedings and laundry and dirty diapers. Before she had to balance two kids and a relationship and a job and the family she already had.

But she backed away again and he again took her in under heavy eyelids. Fatigue of the day and desire of the moment. She knew if she'd let the kiss go on for much longer that he would've manoeuvred them for more. Or she would've. She would've straddled his lap and reached for his fly and waited for him to make his move. To take control and press her back into the couch as he hovered over her. Until he let his weight settle onto her and next to her and more.

"What mean we're done already?" he asked.

And she again found his hand Because they weren't. She hoped not. But she knew the moment they were in was. It wouldn't be them fooling around on in the living room after this. Though, maybe it'd be more. Better or different.

Everything was different now anyway. It had to be. It was going to be. They needed to get used to it. To talk about it. To keep talking about it.

Talk. Fight. Fuck. Hank's over-simplification of marriage and relationships. One that she didn't think he entirely believed. At least not the 'fuck' part.

Her and Jay … they weren't going to fuck that night. They hadn't fucked for a while. She assumed there would be a point in their relationship that they'd just fuck again. That they'd just want to be fucked. That that'd be what they needed in a particular moment. But right then – right now – it wasn't even pregnancy hormones horniness sex and orgasms she wanted. Okay – maybe she did want it. And maybe she more than a little needed it too. But she wanted to get to it – get to getting off – through love making. As … ridiculous as that sounded. And it still ran in her ears as ridiculous. But it wasn't. She knew the kind of sex they needed then. They both needed. And it wasn't on that couch.

"Are you in a place where I can say something that might be a little triggering for you?"

The heavy eyes opened wider and he considered her. He searched for a way to answer and Erin searched if she should even say it. Any of it. So she kept a hold of his hand.

"It's my thing. It's about me," she clarified. Maybe a little too quickly and his forehead against danced with a flashing sign of concern. To her. And she reached and picked at the hem on the sleeve of his Henley. "I just need to tell you something."

"Sure," he allowed softly – more unsurely than she'd like. "What?"

Erin stared between them for a long moment before making her find those eyes of his again. She struggled looking at him in the eyes so much right now. The same light and fire wasn't in them as before. It'd dimmed a lot. She missed his confidence. She even missed some of his rage and anger – and how he directed it. His passion and drive. It seemed more muted lately.

"Umm …" she fumbled looking away before looking at him again. "I need you to … understand …". She sighed hard and really looked at him that time. "That being pregnant is hard for me."

"I know," he said too quickly. Too surely than she'd like. "That's why I hate you're going to be alone in fucking New York."

"It's not that," she interjected and exhaled. She searched for the words to explain it. "It's … before the Voights took me in. Some of the things I had to do. Were done to me …"

And his fingers were suddenly pressing through hers. Laced there and held tight. Joined. And she stared at that. Stared for a long time until she found his eyes again. There was a flicker in them now. He was looking at her. Seeing her. And she was seeing more of him too. The him she loved. And the one she knew loved her. Still. Cared about her.

"Having control over my body has been really important to me, Jay," she said. "And … I just need you to know … to understand … that being pregnant. Right now. I've had some moments where I've really felt out of control of my own body. I am out of control of my own body. I mean," she gestured at her belly. "I've got two human beings growing inside of me."

They were already sending her hormones flying. Her emotions. Basic bodily functions. And she knew it was only going to get worse. As they grew. As she started to feel them move. As her shape and weight changed even more. Her hips and belly and breasts. And ass and thighs. She was afraid she'd feel less and less like herself. Less and less in control. And then she'd be a food truck. And someone's … two people's … mom. And she'd have no personal space or privacy. She'd have some other identity she'd have to live up to. And two people who might cling to her and change her and hug her and need her in ways that she knew she couldn't comprehend as much as she thought she had some idea of what to expect. She also felt like she didn't. About any of it.

"I've been having to compartmentalize a bit," she told him as he held her hand tightly. "And just … keep things in perspective. But I know it's going to get harder, Jay. As I get bigger and they start moving. After they get here. In some ways … I don't know … I feel like … for me … I might be more comfortable with just straight up scheduling a C-section and just … I think I might want to do formula. I don't know if I can …" she waved her hands at her breasts. "I'm having trouble getting my head around that part of it. With one baby …" she shook her head. "But two?"

And he sat there looking at her. And she watched for disapproval. She waited for some kind of argument. For him to tell her she was being selfish – because she already felt that way. Even thinking this. Even trying to work through it. Saying it out loud. For him to tell her if she wasn't ready or comfortable or able to do all that – labor, mother, breastfeeding stuff – then she probably wasn't ready to parent. That she should've said that before. That it should've impacted her decision to have these kids.

But what he said was, "Okay … I know you don't want me to say the 'good guy' stuff. But, Erin, seriously, I'm going to tell you what I'd be telling you when they got here. What I'd be telling you if we were having this conversation a year from now. Two years from now. Last year. And twenty years from now. They – we – need you healthy. For them to be healthy. So … do your thing. You do you."

And she let that sit there for a moment. Between them and in the air of the room. And everything else that week and month and eight months had been. What the past year had been. And the past two years of their relationship. And the nearly five years of this friendship. Their partnership.

"You really are a good guy," she told him.

"Oh yea …," he muttered and sat back in the couch. His hand loosening his grip like he didn't quite believe her. Or maybe he couldn't – wouldn't – quite believe that anymore. Or ever again. Like that wasn't how he was able to perceive himself now.

She sat forward a bit and found his hand again. "Jay," she said a bit more firmly. "You really are amazing. And you're going to be an amazing dad."

"Oh yea …," he muttered again and leaned his free arm on the back of the couch and gazed out the darkened window.

"I mean that," she stressed. "How you're dealing with this. How you dealt with Ethan today. You're giving. You're sacrificing. A problem solver."

He shifted a bit to meet her eyes and she gave him a little smile.

"Ethan adores you."

"Fantastic," he smattered out.

She smiled. "I adore you," she shook at his gripped hand. "You're my best friend. I'm completely in love with you. And these kids are going to be too." She said and pulled his hand to sit there with them. And again he stared at it.

"Jay," she whispered after he just gazed at the bump they'd made together – in the room, the home they'd made together. "You are so giving and sacrificing and such a problem solver, a solution finder for everyone else. On the job. In cases. For me. For Ethan. In all of this already. For them. I just wish you'd … accept you're allowed to be those things for yourself too. It's not just me who needs to be healthy for these two."

He gave her a thin smile. It was weak and a little sad. "I'm trying."

She nodded and she leaned forward to give him a light kiss against caste lips because he didn't open himself to receive anything more. So she settled back a bit from him.

"Or relationship might not have much form right now, Jay. I know we don't look that cool. I know we're a bit of a mess. But, I think we've still got function. As uncomfortable as … the past eight months have been, I'm still comfortable with you. I think we still work. That this will work. So, I just want you to know … I'm not going to be giving up on you. Or this. On what we've got."

She leaned in and kissed him again – watching him as she did, both of them going near cross-eyed.

"So, you just keep doing you too, babe," she said – staring into his puppy-dog gaze. The wounded boy and the wounded man. But a man – a real man, a strong one – all the same.

And she went in again and kissed him. And that time he did open his lips to hers. His arms came up around her. And they stayed together. And it felt nice. It felt good. It felt right.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Reads, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**

 **Next chapter here will either be a Voight POV at the hospital with Ethan and Maggie (possibly Manning and/or Will) in the scene too. Or a Platt POV with Ethan and likely an appearance by Voight and possibly Woods.**

 **Again, still wanting to go back and work on Hereafter. Still thinking about starting a new story that jumps ahead bit to the spring.**

 **I've had some people ask if there's media and characters that shows M.S. some that does is West Wing, The Circle (movie), Trainwreck (movie), Ten Days in the Valley. But they're all adults. And the one where it's most explored/mentioned is West Wing, and I think it's the relapsing/remitting kind, not the progressive that Ethan has.**

 **I've had some PMs and comments asking about the twins' names. And, yes, they are getting narrowed down. But I don't think I'm going to share them until they get bestowed on the kids. Though, I might share a shortened list at some point. But, again, it's more about finding names that fit the personalities I'm sort of still working out that these little people would grow into.**


	38. Presents

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Jay held out a piece of tape on his finger watching Erin's so fucking exact folds and creases she was making to the gift she was currently wrapping. To every fucking gift they'd wrapped thus far. And, as much as Jay could appreciate precision, he wasn't sure this was a circumstance that really necessitated it. Not when it came to wrapping a few presents for a fourteen-year-old and a two-year-old boy. But all he was really thinking was: Nurture.

Eth's description of how Hank wrapped presents was playing out right in front of him. And it wasn't Hank who was sitting in front of him. But clearly another person he'd raised – and rubbed off on. Another point going into the 'nurture' column of just how kids turn out the way they turn out as adults.

Erin glanced up from her slow work to swipe the tape off his finger but gave him a look. One of those looks.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Jay muttered.

She stared at him – almost glared at him. "My wrapping presents is that funny?"

Jay realized that he was likely grinning a little too much at her. But that comment didn't help it. He grinned a little bit more.

"Eth was just telling me about how Voight wraps presents," he said.

She made a sound – another nurtured sound – and looked back to her work, smoothing that piece of tape into place with several finger swipes. Finger swipes that looked a little too good. Ones that Jay sort of wished were being laid across other places rather than wrapping paper and tape and gifts for her baby brother and nephew. Ones that would lead them back to what they'd been doing earlier rather than sitting here working on last minute chores to keep the peace on Christmas morning.

But he just tore off another near perfect one-inch strip of tape and once again held out his finger waiting for her to retrieve it. Which she did.

"He also told me that Hank only lets him be the human tape dispenser too."

She gave him a glance from her work. "His hands," she muttered. "He's tremoring a lot right now."

Jay allowed a quiet acknowledgement of that as he readied the next piece. "And what's the reasoning me for getting the same job?"

Her eyebrow raised at him. "Awww," she sassed at him. "It's because you're such a good house-husband."

And Jay raised his eyebrow right back at her for that one. Because he was having none of that. He was just waiting for her to decide to float – or spit right out – that he'd make a much better house husband than she would a housewife. Which she had a point on.

Erin wasn't exactly a cooking, cleaning, errand-running, laundry-doing type. Even getting her to keep things wiped-down and tidy and keeping more than condiments stocked in the fridge seemed like it was asking a little much of her. A reality that had again reared its head with her living in New York. Every time he visited her there it was clear that she hadn't bothered to clean the apartment or she'd loosely attempted to move some stuff around to try to hide the mess when he'd called her to let her know his flight had landed and he'd be there within the hour. But even getting that seemed like special treatment. It was for the visits where something else had precipitated the trip beyond just seeing her. Like him shooting a little girl.

But Jay knew that even if he excelled a bit more at keeping house – or helping keep house, or just having a fucking sense of cleanliness, taught by time in the military and a childhood where he had more than helped his mom with the house to try to help her from having to deal with his dad having too many drinks in him and getting too in her face about something not being placed just so in the imagined spot and way he'd left it. He wouldn't be happy being a house-husband, though. Just like Erin wouldn't be a very good housewife. Neither of them would make great stay-at-home parents.

They were both going to need to have something more than … this. Some part of their identity. Something they were good at beyond being parents (if they were even going to be particularly good at that). They were just going to keep something to escape from a life of kids and kid talk and family stuff. As good as some of that sounded, and some of it might really be, it also just didn't really sound like them. Like either of them.

Maybe that'd change. Maybe after the kids got there they'd have some sort of raging motivation to stay home and be at home as much as possible. Like those people who said that they never went out anymore or wanted to hang out or go for a drink or maintain any kind of social life that didn't involve their kids and other couples with kids. The ones that said it was because their kids were the only people in the world they really wanted to spend time with. That they enjoyed spending time with them. That they were their favorite people to spend time with. That they loved hanging out with them.

And Jay only bought that bullshit so much. He heard it. And part of him wanted to believe it. Maybe part of him did believe it could be them. Because there had been that whole period in his and Erin's relationship where they did just spend a lot of their off-duty hours hanging out with her family – and with Eth. And Jay could appreciate that point. Because he had definitely had moments where he'd really enjoyed hanging out with Erin's little brother. That he looked forward to it. To the opportunities it provided. And the unexpected conversations and activities and moments it lead to. And just the routine and stability and togetherness it bred. Stupidly simple little things that made off-time seem more structured and manageable and enjoyable. Something to look forward to rather than to find ways to fill up. To take more shifts and OT and doubles so it just didn't happen. He could see what there was to like about having a weekend dinner at Hank's. About there being things like barbecues and beach days and camping trips and fishing trips and zoo trips and museum trips … and fucking grocery trips to every type of store in the Little Village … being worth looking forward. The same way that helping with chores around Voight's place – and completing them around their own place – hadn't seemed that bad when it was time with Erin. And there was a beer waiting. And a meal. And sun on Hank's back deck – or better up on his and Erin's roof-top wannabe terrace.

So maybe they weren't lying with those lines. But another part of him knew they were. That what was really keeping them home was exhaustion after pulling a double and then going home to do those chores and to have kids screaming around the house and to then do battle to get them to bed. That their evenings and weekends were filled with homework and Little League and swimming lessons and piano lessons. That they didn't have the time – or money – left for them to do things like go out to dinner or a drink or … whatever people in their 30s with a young family did. Because it sure seemed like people in their 30s with young kids mostly just tried to keep their sanity, provide for their family, and hold their relationship together enough that they weren't getting divorced until the kids were old enough to really hold it against them that they were.

And even though that was one way of looking at it – he also had that other feeling. That one where he knew that … he'd got a preview of what raising a kid – or at least helping to raise a kid – looked like. And their had been a whole lot of homework and playing taxi service and ball games and sitting in stands and early mornings and late nights … and fucking sleepiness nights with Eth. There'd been a lot of moments where he'd felt like the kid being a part of Erin's life meant that he was running second fiddle. That her baby brother had more implications on them having time for them – and a relationship – than the fucking job did. That time where they could be sitting at Molly's or doing … whatever cop couples did, which he still wasn't really sure was, because it'd seemed like when Erin's family was taken out of the equation about all they'd known what to do with themselves was drink and fuck. But even with the negative implications that maybe it'd had on their relationship – it'd also built their relationship. And there were a lot of fun moments – happy moments – in doing that fucking mundane shit involved in just helping a kid … grow up. Maybe grow up a bit better – a bit happier – than either of them had.

So maybe there was truth to the whole hanging out with family thing. Hanging out with your kids thing. That maybe it'd be better than he expected. Maybe it'd be … really good. For him. For them. Both of them.

But Jay still knew that neither of them could function as stay-at-home parents. That would likely be the nail in the coffin of them trying to establish – maintain – their relationship. He didn't even know how Erin would manage the first bit stuck at home with two babies. How much time she'd actually get off through the D.A.'s office – if she was still staffed there when the twins arrived. But even if they gave her a decent amount of time, he wasn't sure she'd want to take months off. But he also wasn't sure how the managed and afforded daycare or some kind of babysitter for two kids. For years.

He kind of wished Erin had more female friends. Who had kids. Better – more female cop friends who had kids. Or some kind of law enforcement. Someone who could talk to her about how to deal with this stuff. Or who she could talk to. Because he knew men wouldn't have the same perspective. He knew it wouldn't be the same experience. Jay didn't even really know who to talk to himself about any of it. He didn't exactly have a large friend group. And the people in it hadn't really started breeding yet.

And asking most cops and vets and military about raising a family usually resulted in the same kind of comments or stories. It wasn't the sort of thing that got talked about at work. At work it was either comments depicting some sort of pride on your kids' achievements. Or it was bitching about how fucking annoying the kids and wife were. It was being macho and chauvinist. And as much as he knew he could sometimes fall into that category – he didn't.

Not when it came to Erin. And he didn't think it would with his own kids either. He'd kept his mouth shut about Erin on the job – because it'd made good sense. Because it was respectful. And he hadn't said a peep to anyone about Eth on the job ever. Even when Ruzek and Atwater had both sort of prodded in that direction like he was some C.I. for them to collect personal intel about how Voight ticked. But that was a fucking betrayal on multiple levels – Hank, Erin and Eth himself. Not matter how much the kid played at his patience or just worked as a fucking cock-block, he didn't discuss it at work. Eth deserved more than that. He was a good kid. Even if he was a lot of fucking work.

He couldn't talk to Voight about it. He wouldn't anyway. But even if he wanted to, Hank had a vested interest. His daughter. His grandkids. The advice would be more about Erin than … what Jay thought he needed to hear.

He didn't know how to talk to Al about it. The guy had fucked up his marriage. And now it was an even more gapping sore point. And 'Tonio? Jay had a lot of respect there. But that whole situation hadn't exactly worked out either. Not with his wife and not with his relationship with his kids.

And even if he figured out who or how to talk to anyone about any of this – there was that whole other factor. Twins. Two babies at once. A boy and a girl. And even though he kept trying to tell himself that it wouldn't be that complicated – it sure fucking felt like it was going to be.

"Don't even start," he put back to Erin, though. "Or I'll start telling you how your father figure is showing over there."

She made a small amused sound. She didn't argue the point. Because she likely knew the truth in the statement – or was starting to accept it – as much as she didn't like it. Voight had rubbed off on her. In a lot of ways. But he was pretty sure Hank's wife had too. And Ethan. They'd shaped her a lot. That Erin had a seven year practice run in mothering. And she'd had fourteen-plus years in training and experience on how to be a big sister. Authority figure and ball buster and the shoulder to cry on and hand out hugs and tickles wars while telling you off and fighting with you worse than him and Will had ever managed – all in the same three minute time span. She was likely way more ready for all this than him. More made for it than him.

"If I let you wrap everything would be under the tree still be in the plastic bags we bought them in," she said.

Jay shrugged. "I might've invested in some decorative holiday bags to place said plastic bags inside of," he nodded. "I might have even killed some extra trees with some frivolous tissue paper to make it look all pretty."

"Oooooh," Erin mouthed at him and gave him a smile. "They're kids. They still like unwrapping stuff."

"Eth likes unpacking his stocking just fine," Jay said and handed her the next piece of tape. "Nothing wrapped in there."

She snatched the tape off his finger and gave him a look. "And haven't you been busting Hank's balls and putting ideas with Ethan's head about how lazy Santa is in our house with the unwrapped stocking stuffers?"

He gave her a little grin and readied the next piece of tape. "That exclusively impacts Hank's Christmas duties. Nothing to do with us."

"Right," Erin muttered. "Like he needs more on his plate."

He gazed at her. "He's not actually planning on wrapping the stocking stuff, is he?"

Erin shrugged. "I doubt it. Got told if that's what we're planning for stockings in the future, we're on our own."

Jay made a little sound but stared at her working on the package and then the plastic bag sitting at the end of the table with the few stocking stuffers they – or she – had picked up for Eth and Henry and Olive. It still looked like it was more than Hank's ordered – one or two things, if you do anything. But things had been kept more in check than last year.

That was likely a good thing. But it likely betrayed just how much neither of them were really feeling that into Christmas that year.

Jay wondered how they'd – he'd – feel about Christmas next year. It wasn't like the twins would be old enough yet to have much of a clue about what was going on. They'd only be six or seven months, if they arrived in the time frame the doc was speculating on. But even them being there would be enough to change things for him and Erin. They'd have to start thinking about traditions and routines and … just what they wanted their family to look like. At holidays. What his experiences and memories would bring to it. And what hers would too.

And he was … they were … just going to have to hope that adding the twins would be the only big change for the next Christmas. And, really, if Eth was still around he'd likely be wanting to share and pass on – and force on them – the Voight family traditions he'd grown up with. Though those had been changing too. He knew from what Erin had said that Christmas didn't look the way it had when Voight's wife was still alive. And he knew last year had been different for the family too with Justin gone. That this year Eth's limitations – Erin being away and the still shifting and settling family dynamic – meant that things were different again.

And Jay didn't know if that would make things easier or harder. Better or worse. He really wasn't sure what the day was going to look like. But he did know it didn't exactly feel like Christmas. But he was used to that. He'd had years and years of that. He didn't think Christmas had ever really felt the way it was supposed to for him anyway. Though, he'd thought he'd gotten some taste of it in that first Christmas he'd spent over at Erin's dad's place. But that was the past now. A whole lot had changed since then.

Jay's phone buzzed and he reached to tilt it up to look at the text.

"The job?" Erin asked.

He made a sound and started to key in a response. "Upton …," he muttered. He was about to tell her it was nothing. Yet. But then it was her phone buzzing.

"Going to be Hank telling me he needs me to go keep Eth company?" she asked, as she reached for it.

Jay hit reply. "He has me on ass-duty. So, if he is going in, unless he says otherwise, I can likely come and keep you both company."

Erin made a small sound, though, and started keying a response into her own phone. "He's taking Eth over to Med." Jay stared at her but she only shrugged. "Wouldn't be Christmas without Ethan putting in time at the hospital."

"What's wrong?" he pressed.

She shook her head and put the phone down. "He's fussing about Ethan's port," she said and looked at him. "He thinks the skin looks too red and feels too warm."

"Isn't that because they forgot to remind the nurse about his sensitivity to the adhesive?"

She just shrugged. "He doesn't seem to think so. He mentioned that he might take Eth over tonight."

Jay glanced at his watch. "It's 11:30," he provided.

She just exhaled and put the phone back down, going back to the present wrapping.

"Did you want to go meet them?" he offered.

She shook her head. "It's not exactly an emergency situation. They'll be there a while."

"Something must've happened for him to decide to drag him over at this time of night," Jay said.

"Maybe," she said. "Or he's just not sleeping or is clawing at it and Hank wants to get it checked out before Christmas."

"In the thirty minutes remaining before Christmas," he said.

She allowed him a little smile. "In thirty minutes it's only Christmas Eve … day."

"Christmas Eve Night," Jay corrected. "Or Christmas Eve Very Early Morning." She raised an eyebrow at that. And he shrugged. "Well …"

She shook her head at him. "I'll check in on them in a bit. Hank's so good at texting back and keeping me in Eth's medical loop."

"One of his specialities," Jay allowed, as she pushed away the present she'd finished and reached to retrieve the next one. She then shifted her attention to scanning the paper to pick which pattern should be used next. "We might end up having to head over," Jay told her as she pulled out a roll and started measuring it against the box to cut a piece.

"What'd Upton say?"

He shrugged a bit. "If she's smart she'll call Voight," he said. "Pill mill thing we've been following. Hailey thinks she's found an in."

"Pharm and the holidays," Erin muttered. "Go hand-in-hand."

"Whatever gets you through," Jay said.

And she gave him a firm look. Too much of an examination. So he reached for the scissors to cut the piece she'd folded off. Pills weren't his thing. Right now.

"I told her to call him," he said. "Let him make the call on if he wants to start a U.C. or – end up staring through a one-way over the weekend."

"Sounds like she wants to be looking for a way to be on that side of Christmas," Erin said, as he pushed the piece of paper over to her.

"Don't know," he said.

There was a lot he still didn't know about Upton. And the ways she operated. The baggage she carried. She did a good job at trying to make it seem like she was above any of that. But Jay didn't exactly believe you ended up off a major U.C. assignment with a meritorious promotion to detective, landing yourself in Homicide and then Intelligence, without having baggage. She just did one of Eth's holier-than-thou acts when it came to ethics and morals and standards on the way she thought this job should be done. He figured – he was trying to convince himself – that it was only going to be a matter of time before he got to tell her she'd been spending a lot of time throwing stones at glass houses. Everyone's got skeletons. No one in Chicago – with any length of time in CPD – was squeaky clean. The longer he was on the job dirtier he felt. Even if he was good police. Jay actually thought the better police you were the dirtier you ended up feeling.

"Hopefully she let's us get this done before her perfect policing has shit hitting the fan," Erin mumbled.

Jay gazed at her – watching her make the initial folds to get the box wrapped. He could feel the distaste in her statement. But he knew that Christmas was proving stressful enough. And there was already enough chance that the day would be getting derailed without Upton finding some case to get them all on that might pull everyone away from their families. One of the few days a year – maybe the only day of the year – that Voight really seemed to try to ensure everyone got to be somewhere other than on a scene or in a surveillance van. Though, Jay got the impression most people in Intelligence these days were just looking for excuses to pile on as many hours and as much distraction as work could provide. It wasn't exactly like the team was brimming with family situations right now. Jay was pretty sure most of them wouldn't mind working Christmas Day. Maybe he wouldn't either. But he also hoped for Erin's sake – for Ethan's sake – that Hailey and Woods and the fucking populace of Chicago would let them have the next thirty-six hours without incident that required him and Voight leaving the house.

"He's going to like this," Erin muttered at him as she reached for a piece of tape. One that wasn't waiting for her and he snapped out of his thoughts to rip off a piece and hand it to her.

He stared at the Escape the Room in a box game that he'd spotted and grabbed for Eth. The kid had been talking about wanting to do an Escape Room for as long as Jay had known him. He'd lamented about the cost. He'd lamented about other kids doing some in the city and 'ruining' it for him. About the rich kids at his school getting to host parties there. About his former 'friend' Evan not inviting him when he went but taking kids – his new friends – from his new school and new able-bodied baseball team.

They hadn't taken Eth. Jay didn't know why. Maybe because it was a little pricey for them to just hit it up as something to do on any given Sunday. And there'd been other things that him and Erin had pooled together on at birthdays and Christmas. Other little schemes and traditions and routines they'd picked up with Eth that made more sense. That had more replay value.

And now they likely wouldn't ever take him to one of the things. You had to book so far out. And finding a 'good' day with Eth was hard enough. Trying to predict it weeks out? That was just stupid. It'd be money down the drain. Not to mention him standing and seeing and thinking clearly enough to do the puzzles in the things. In a short window of time. Jay had seen how much Eth had struggled that day with going to a fucking movie. Taking him out for an even mildly physical activity just … didn't seem realistic. It was asking and expecting too much. It felt like it was putting pressure on the kid too. Or setting him up for frustration and disappointment.

It'd been a train of thought – a wall he kept hitting – whenever he strained to come up with an idea, a contribution, towards Eth's Christmas that year. Jay really hadn't known what to get the kid. Not with everything that was going on with him. The laser tag and paint ball gift certificates from the last couple years didn't make sense. Not for Eth and Jay wasn't sure it did for him either. Not right now. It didn't sound like activities he really wanted to be participating in his free time.

Really any idea he came up with just didn't seem to make sense. Not that he'd come up with many ideas or thought about it much. But neither had Erin really. She seemed just as stalled – as reluctant – about Christmas as him.

But Jay understood. Gifts – and giving – only mattered so much. Especially in situations like this. Fucking complicated situations.

Things not getting derailed. Eth getting to have his day that he wanted with the family was really the only gift – thing – the kid needed and wanted. The rest of it didn't matter. Not really. Erin being there with him did. The kid having his dad and nephew there did. That'd be the take away from this year.

If things went south in the coming weeks or months. That's what people would remember. What'd they say. That at least they were there. At least they were together.

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Jay asked.

Erin shrugged and kept working on the gift. "Guess that depends on what happens at Med tonight."

Jay gave a little nod and reached to pull over the plastic bag with the stocking stuffers. "At least need to run this by for Hank," he said and went to gaze in. But Erin's hand darted across the table and grabbed it back. He gave her a look.

"Don't be nosy," she said.

He raised an eyebrow and gave the bag a little teasing tug. "My present in there?"

She yanked it harder and out of his grip. He got a more warning look that time.

He gazed at her but then got up from the table. And she sighed heavily.

"Jay," she hissed. "C'mon … it's for-"

He cast her a look before starting to jog up the stairs. "I just am grabbing something."

And he went up to their bedroom and stood at his closet. He let out a slow breath and then shoved aside some of his tshirts to retrieve the gift he'd hidden behind them up on the shelf.

Erin stared at him as he came back down the stairs. Curiosity and concern on her face.

"It's not wrapped," he said of the gift behind his back.

She gestured at the paper – like he was an idiot.

He tilted his head at her. "I want to give it to you now. Not in front of everyone."

She stared at him again. She arced her eyebrow. "A box with a new outfit? You sure it's my size these days?"

"Har, har," he put to her and pulled his hand from behind his back, holding it out to her and watching her eyes set on the wooden box. The memory box. "You mentioned Camille had one." She didn't reach to take it. "I thought … maybe you might want to start one. Now."

Her eyes went up to his and her hands finally dropped away from her creasing and folding and taping and took it. She clearly wasn't expecting it to be as heavy as it was and her arms briefly drooped against the weight.

She set it on the table in front of her and ran her hand over the top. Looking at the deep mahogany and the deep etches that had engraved a tree with its roots spilling over and down the sides of it.

"It's …," she shook her head and looked up at him. "Beautiful," she provided – lightly and carefully. Maybe she didn't like it. Or it wasn't as much of a thing for her as he thought it might be. Or that things just didn't feel right enough for now to be the time. But he watched her and her fingers stayed firm in their play against the roots of the engraving.

"I put a couple things in it for you," he said. "As a start."

She gave him a thin smile and stared at the brass latch for a moment. But then her fingers were there and it was flipped loose and the lid lifted up. And her eyes set on the velvet matted photo ovals on that side of the lid. The spots – where for now – he'd slide in the sonograms for the babies. And she stared at those too. Her fingers reaching and caressing there before giving him another - a bit bigger – little smile. But Jay only nodded into the contents of the box.

Not much for now. Not much yet. But a promise of a future. He hoped. The one she was working at getting him to hope for too.

Her eyes stayed on that photo in there. It wasn't the best photo. Of them. He knew there were other ones. Better ones. That this one was just something that someone had snapped on their phone. He thought maybe Burgess. And she'd sent it off to them.

It was back when they were on the job. Together. When they were partners. Before everything had changed. And they looked younger and happier. And not nearly as broken as he felt now. She looked lighter too. Even though he could see some of the hurt and pain and brokenness in her eyes to. But not like it was now. Instead it just looked like they were on a lunch break. That they were in their element. That they were a couple. One that was working.

He liked that photo. He liked that memory that he couldn't exactly pinpoint. But he liked the memory – the feeling he had – of the people they were then. How they'd made it work then even when life was still spitting his mettle at them. But they'd been able to smile then. To be comfortable with each other.

He liked that photo. And he thought Erin did too. Because he watched as she reached to lift it out of the box – to give him another smile. One that looked a bit more like in that photo.

And he watched how she stopped as she drew it up. As she looked at what was under it. And she gaped and looked at him. Her face creased with more question and bigger surprise.

Jay sat back down at the table and gazed at her. He hadn't prepared anything to say. And he likely should've. Some kind of little speech. But he wasn't so good at those.

"I just …" and he stopped and stared at her some more. And she stared right back. "I thought you should be the one holding onto those now," he said of the wedding bands that he'd bought and then hidden from her and than refused to slip on either of their fingers in the spring. When he'd told her she wasn't the person he wanted to marry anymore. But now …

Now things were different. And she wasn't who she was in the spring. She wasn't who she was in the spring. And she wasn't who she was when he'd fallen in love. But she was someone he needed and wanted. And wanted to be with. And to be there for. He was still in love. Even in all the pain and the hurt and the fear.

"I don't know if … I'm remotely close to the man you want to marry—"

"You are," Erin interrupted.

"Erin, I'm not the person I was …"

"Neither am I," she said. "But I still want us to be a family. I still want us to keep working at this."

Jay gave a small nod. "Then … I guess … when you think it might work …" he said and nodded at them.

"Jay …," she sighed raggedly at him. And he just sat there staring at her. Because he didn't know what to say.

He loved her. She was his best friend too. He wanted to be there for her. And for the babies. He wanted this to work too. He liked the idea of them being a family. Even though it scared the shit out of him. But he was trying. He was really fucking trying. But he was struggling to find his way and to express any of that. Or anything.

She reached and grabbed the bag that she'd snatched back from him and dug through it for a moment until she held out a little bag at him.

"Open it," she ordered.

He reached and took it. He pulled the little strings back and shoved his thumb inside, digging out its contents. He dragged a little metal capsule that was already tarnished and battered. A clear antique but before he even opened it he knew it was a compass. A compass that had already been well travelled. He flipped it over in his hand. And looked at engraved longitude and latitude there – etched in a way that gave away they were never by their shine.

"It's here," Erin told him. "This house." He gave her a little smile. "Open it," she nodded again.

And he did. And stared again at an engraving that clearly wasn't new. It was smudged with age and worry of a thumb likely pressing across it over the years. _So You May Always Find Your Way Home_ it said.

"To help you find your way," Erin mouthed at him quietly and then reached into the box and handed the rings back to him again, setting them on the table in front of him. "Jay, this year has taught me … a lot. But the biggest lesson was … is … that you're home for me. This is home for me. So you let me know when you get here too. And then – give these to me again. I don't need to hold them for safe keeping. I just need you to be ready to come home."

And he stared at those rings. And the compass. And her. And it all was right there. It felt so fucking close. But still so fucking far to travel.


	39. Some Time

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Hank glanced looked up as Maggie slide open the stall they'd been shoved into in Emerg. Her eyes were set on Magoo but she managed to give him a small glance and a thin smile as she came in.

"He been sleeping on you?" she asked.

Hank allowed a little grunt and set his eyes back on his boy. "In and out."

They'd given E a sedative. Hank had actually asked for it. Another day – earlier in the day – E likely would've been just fine with gritting his teeth and not looking while they pulled the port out of him. But his kid was exhausted – mentally, emotionally, physically. Hank could see it in him. Feel it radiating off of him. Magoo was putting on a rough face – for his sister. Just the same was E tried to put on a show for J when J had been waltzing in-and-out of his life with a handful of visits a year. Putting on a show because it was the holidays. Trying not to 'ruin' it for the rest of them. Whatever the fuck that meant anymore. Hank was pretty damn sure the holidays had been 'ruined' long ago. Never the same. Just a day – a time of year – they had to get through. But not the same as when the boys were little. When his wife was there. When their folks were still alive. Really was just a few people sitting in a room, in a house – trying to be a family as best they could – and for a lot of years it had been him and Erin and J putting on a bit of a show for the little guy. For Magoo. But he wasn't the little one in the family anymore. And a whole lot of role reversal had been going on. His wife's baby boy wasn't much of a baby anymore. He couldn't be. And Hank was pretty aware that there were a whole lot of times that it was E trying his best to take care of the rest of them the best a sick fourteen-year-old kid could. Shouldn't have to. Didn't need him to. But seemed to be the way the cookie had crumbled for the lot of them in life.

E's exhausting, though, had some of his cracks showing. So Hank had just stepped out and told Manning that he'd feel a whole lot more comfortable with getting this little procedure done if they gave E something. Usually didn't like them adding more to his kid's mix of drugs he had going through his system. Only so much a little kid's body should have to cope with. But he'd been pretty concerned that if they didn't give E something they might end up stuck at Med longer with Magoo having a panic attack. Or worse, jerking around on them when they were taking the thing out and causing one heck of a mess.

Thought they'd given him the sedative a bit early with the speed things were going at Med that night, though. Had been watching a whole lot of holiday crazies parading through the waiting room and the kind of shit that had him thinking he wouldn't be getting much of a Christmas with his boy being pushed one gurneys passed the glass doors to the bay.

Understood they weren't a priority. Though, they'd at least been priority enough they hadn't had them sitting in the waiting room too too long. That was more of a who you know thing, though. Was sure of that.

Sharon had seen them. Woman still working herself ragged at that time of night when they were officially past the stroke of midnight and into the couple days of Christmas phooey. Had meant he'd at least gotten Magoo looked at and had the docs working on getting him comfortable and trying to get this fussing and fever and infection resolved.

A start. But that'd been about it. Thus far. And Hank suspected the sedative might be worn off by the time they did actually get around to pulling the tubing out of his son.

Unless Maggie was going to do that now. Hard to tell. Hadn't said. She'd just run that thermometer thing across E's forehead. Caused the kid to stir a little bit.

"Fever's down a bit," she provided and gave the big blast of antibiotics they had dripping into his son a bit of a look.

"Mmm …," Hank grunted.

Maggie stared at E some. And then looked over his way. "You're doing good to catch this," she said. "After our jobs."

Hank just grunted again. Knew she was only trying to make small talk but never was much for small talk. And there wasn't even much small to say to that comment. He had a sick kid. He'd had to get himself educated real quick on the signs and symptoms of what to watch for so they didn't get themselves into a bigger mess. So he had his boy around as long as possible. So his boy got to live his life in a little pain and discomfort as they could manage.

A thought process that sent him on a bit of a merrigoround anymore. There'd been some times when Hank had found himself wondering if he'd been selfish not letting the docs pull the plug on the life support back in the early hours and days when E had cracked open his skull and had to go through surgery after surgery. Laying there is an coma. Brain pressure and swelling and trauma. He wondered if E would've been that tough cookie that managed to breath on his own and fight his way through it. Or if he would've jut drifted away on them.

If that would've been better. Or fairer to the kid. But Hank hadn't been able to do it. Hadn't been able to let go. Not when he'd just lost his wife. He wasn't sure if the decision had been left to him with J if he'd been able to do it either. Not as quickly as Olive had been able to. That he likely would've clung to some hope. Told himself that E had pulled through. Tried to convince himself that J would too if he got given a bit of time – even though the docs were telling him otherwise. That his oldest boy was gone when that bullet had impacted his brain. Gone before he'd even been shoved in that trunk and left for dead.

Pulling a plug on your kid. Hank didn't know how parents did that. Knew it was a decision that had to be made. Knew it'd likely be one that he'd end up in a situation that he'd have to make with Magoo eventually. Had all this time to work at preparing for that. Wrapping his head around it. To better understand what it'd look like. When it'd be time. But he hadn't been able to do that those years ago. Hadn't been ready then. Didn't know how he'd ever really be ready for it now. Even though he knew it was coming. At some point down the road.

He tried to tell himself he'd made the right decision then. That E's life had taken a different path – but his kid still got to live a life. That that counted for something. E got to see and do and experience a lot of different things. But there was a lot in that that some little kid shouldn't have to experience. Just like some teen-aged kid didn't need to be experiencing what E was going through now. That they didn't need to be looking at life and the future – and what it all held – the way his kid did. And that wasn't fair. Life wasn't. But maybe it'd been fairer if he'd just flicked that switch years ago.

That was selfish thoughts too, though. All of it. A bit of a pit. A pit of self pity and self reflection that he didn't have time for. Had to make the most of the time he did have with Magoo anymore. They all did.

Thing was maybe he wanted to be a little selfish with that time too. Had been thinking about it since Olive said she thought she'd likely do Christmas morning just over at the condo with H. Had heard the bigger fuss Erin was putting up about it – bigger than Magoo's.

And he was thinking he wanted her to drop it. There were a lot of things he just needed her to fucking drop anymore. To let it go. Put down the baggage. Stop trying to be the wife or the mother, rather than the daughter and the sister. To just fucking listen when he said something to her. To listen some when her brother or her sister-in-law said something to her too. To not turn everything into it being about her being away or Magoo's health.

Hank was learning … the problem hadn't been J. That tension in the family – hadn't been J. Because he was having to have some of the same conversations with Erin. Variations on the theme. But the fucking same.

It's hard when someone's sick. Hard when your adult kid is away. In a different state. Hard when they're your kids too and you don't want them giving up on their lives to manage their baby brothers. Hard to figure out what the fuck you tell them and what you don't. How to keep them informed and involved. But not to have them fucking stressing out and worrying and being negligent on their own responsibilities and lives. Didn't need them running home all the time. But also didn't need them brow beating him and busting his balls every fucking time they did get home. Didn't need every visit to be some kind of confrontation and some sort of larger debrief.

And he clearly hadn't fucking mastered how to handle any of that. Not with J. Not with Erin. Not fucking communication lines and expression of emotions and feelings. Not how to deal with being a family when you've got adult children and a kid who's still a kid. When there's grandkids in the picture. When people are already gone. How to talk about any of it.

Might tell his kids they were allowed to – supposed to – talk to him about anything. About whatever was on their minds. About the good, bad, and ugly. About the lies they could and the shit they'd done so he could try to fix it for them before it blow up in their faces. So he could be the father. But as a father – there was a whole lot he didn't know how to talk about with his kids. Not his own stuff.

Not all of this. Not E and the job and his own baggage and demons that seemed to be weighing him down and trying to creep up on him anymore. Those skeletons. Chicago – there's always going to be someone reaching for them and digging them out. Holding them out – and up – against you.

Had been able to act like he didn't care so much about any of that before. But it was different now. Different than even before.

Needed to be there for Magoo even more than before. Had H he needed to be looking out for. Had more grandkids on the way.

It was all fucking different. Not the same grey as before. All pretty fucking clear.

Just like it was clear that a finite amount of time was all that he had left with Magoo. And that fall – hadn't had a whole lot of time with his boy. Not real time. Not father-son time. Not much. It'd all just been parenting time. Being his father. Being his caretaker. Being the sole breadwinner in a household where the finances were just flying out of whack. Being the cop pulled in too many directions while he had Denny Woods breathing down his neck and salivating all at the same time.

So maybe he'd been a little selfish too – just like Erin – when Olive first said she thought she wasn't going to be there Christmas morning. Maybe he'd left the loss – maybe more on Camille's behalf – of not getting to see his grandson find that tree all lit up and the presents waiting. But it'd passed. There'd be more Christmases with Henry. There'd be more with other little ones. There'd be new routines and traditions and balances that were going to need to be found.

And he had a fourteen-year-old kid who understood that. Clicked into that faster than the rest of them. Even though some disappointment had been evident, E was okay with it. So the rest of them should be too.

And after Erin going on about it – after thinking about it some more – Hank had realized he was more than fucking okay with it too. That he almost hoped that Erin would just agree that her and Halstead would stay over at their own place. That they'd come over a bit later too. To have their own night together. To have their own Christmas morning together – alone – which might be their only one they'd get given what was in the offing. And to let him have E alone too.

That Hank wasn't opposed to having a few unrushed hours – not trucking him off to school or appointments and dealing with the job and bullshit. To just have a few fucking hours with just his little son. To let them do things at E's pace without pressure or explanation. Without E pushing himself to put on some kind of show.

Knew Christmas was about family. Knew that E understood that too. Knew that time with his family was pretty much what the kid wanted that year when you boiled it right down. But they didn't need to spend forty-eight hours straight staring at each other. None of them were that fucking interesting.

Just had to hope that … it was quiet. It was drama free. That E wasn't in a situation where he was pushing himself or running himself ragged. That they all could enjoy the day comfortably. That Erin could get onboard with that. That it didn't need to be some big family event of any kind. Didn't need to be treated like the "last" anything. Even though a whole lot would keep on changing over the coming months. That next Christmas would look different than that one. But they'd had a whole lot of changes the past whole lot of Christmases. That's just the way any of this worked too.

"You got plans for the holidays?" Maggie continued with the small talk.

Hank just grunted again and nodded at E like that was enough explanation. "Don't know what they're going to look like yet."

Got a thin smile of acknowledgement out of her, though. "Sure we'll have him out of here in a few hours. Just waiting for Natalie to come in to remove the port. Then we'll get it pressure packed for him."

Hank grunted again. Few hours' time. A decent amount. Sometimes it felt like those hours in the hospital – about the only quiet, still time he got with his boy anymore. And that sure wasn't the kind of time either of them wanted. That either of them needed.

But could sure use a few hours. A few hours then. A few hours quiet in the morning. Then and now.

At least it was time. And had to make the most of it.

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Next one in this story will be Ethan/Erin chapter. Likely Ethan POV.**


	40. Gets Better

**Author: ZombieJazz**

 **Fandom: Chicago PD**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

 **Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.**

Ethan could sense someone standing in the doorway and let his eyes drift open. Not that opened or closed matter a real whole lot. 'Cuz it didn't. Not when it was still just basically really blurry. His headed rotated a bit. 'Cuz Dad wasn't reacting or anything. So maybe it was just the nurse looking in at him again in the fish bowl. But Dad wasn't there.

He wasn't back yet. And Ethan guessed that was a good thing. 'Cuz he'd pretty much closed his eyes so Dad would think he was sleeping and would take a break. 'Cuz Ethan knew Dad pretty much only took breaks when he was sleeping. And even then in the hospital Dad didn't really take a break. Or ever really. He guessed it didn't matter if it was the hospital or not. Dad and breaks just didn't go together so well.

But at least he musta gone to take a leak or get a coffee or something. Or to deal with work stuff. 'Cuz it had kinda seemed like his phone had been blowing up and he'd been tryin' to ignore it. Dad didn't ignore work so well, tho. And Ethan knew Dad really couldn't or shouldn't. So that had been another reason to pretend like he was sleeping. So Dad could without feelin' like whatever Dad felt like about all this. Besides stressed and kinda sad. Tho Dad tried not to let Ethan know he was feeling those things. But it was also kinda obvious.

So since Dad wasn't there to deal with it, Ethan reached to pull his ear bud outta his one ear and to try to find where Dad had put down his glasses when he'd pulled them off his face when Dr. Manning was doing that whole shining lights in his eyes thing. Like that was gonna tell her much of anything 'bout why he was running a fever or like it was going to show her that there was a flare in his optic neuritis. Which there wasn't. He could tell when there was. He'd lived it. And lived with it. And the medicine was helping. And he'd just done this blood cleanse. So fuck her and fuck that. And fuck her again since she was making them stay longer until the fucking ophthalmologist on-call could come in and check. It was fucking stupid. He'd just had the fucking MRI stuff the other day. It was like she couldn't read it or the radiologist report or thought she fucking knew better. It pretty much annoyed the shit out of him. And now they were waiting forever.

"It's just me," he heard than tho. "Erin." Like he really needed that clarification. Like she thought she'd been gone long enough or he was dumb enough that he didn't recognize her voice.

But Ethan still stopped reaching for his glasses – that he couldn't find anyway – and settled back into the completely fucking uncomfortable medical gurney that they tried to make you think was a bed that you could rest and sleep and feel anything resembling better in while stuck in the E.D. on Christmas Eve Day Morning. Dawn.

He could see Erin – or at least her figure move closer – and then she was dangling something in front of him. His glasses.

"You looking for these?" she offered.

But he just gave her like a Dad grunt and didn't take them. It wasn't like he really needed them when it was only her. It wasn't like they really made much of a difference anyway for most stuff. So basically whatever.

She sat down in Dad's chair and he could feel her kinda staring at him.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

Ethan just groaned a bit and rubbed at his eyes and tried to squint over at the IV bag. It was the whole fucking reason this was taking forever. But he couldn't make out how much was left. It was like they were purposely making it drip as slow as possible.

"What time is it?" he muttered and rotated his head back her way.

"Almost two," Erin said.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Ethan asked.

"I was waiting to get any update from Dad," she said and she leaned over to press at his forehead.

More like that piece of hair that he could tell must be driving her insane 'cuz she just kept touching it and trying to push it up off his forehead. But the fucking tuff didn't want to go. He knew that. He was pretty much ready to cut it off or shave it off himself. But Dad got his ass and lips all puckered up whenever he did anything with his hair. Which basically amounted to just trying to get it to look something sort of resembling normal. But he really didn't need to make Dad more stress or angry or sadder than what he pretty much already was. So he'd just restrained himself from fucking around with it. Tho, Erin apparently couldn't do the same. It was kinda getting annoying. Like way more annoying than the way that patch was sitting. So he reached and kinda tried to bat her hands away.

"You who's been blowing up his phone?" he asked.

He could see her kinda shake her head. "Not much," she said. "Likely something on the job. Jay's has been blowing up a bit all night too."

"Awesome …," he groaned.

It just fuckin' figured. He'd kinda thought that like at Christmas maybe the job stuff would lay off for like forty-eight or something. But basically it was never like that anymore. Dad pretty much never got a full weekend off. He basically barely even got a full day off. But he'd kinda hoped that maybe since it was Christmas it'd be different. Since Dad was like in charge and he wasn't patrol and all that. Like something really big and bad would have to be happening for him to get called in. Since he was like a senior officer and ranked above people and a sergeant and all that. But Dad said none of that really mattered right now. 'Cuz we all have someone we need to answer to. We all have bosses. And like his bosses right now were major pains in the ass. And Ethan got all that. And he knew Dad's job was important in a whole lotta ways. It was just that sometimes it sucked. And lately it just kinda sucked a lot a lot of the time.

"Where is Dad?" Erin asked.

"Where's Jay?" Ethan put right back at her.

And her hand was on that piece of hair again and he batted at it again. If Jay was there – if he was ever around much anymore – Ethan'd ask him to fix it. 'Cuz Jay had fixed his hair before. And Jay knew how to make it look like normal-ish. Or at last make it look kinda like his. Which was at least way better than when Dad took him to the barber and basically told them to make it look like his – which was like senior citizen hair – and then hovered around the chair like it was four instructing the hair-cutter guy the whole time 'cuz he didn't even have enough hair left in the right spots for Dad's senior haircut. At least Jay's almost looked like what people his age wore. And then he could just use some product and get the remaining patch that was annoying the fuck out of everyone off his forehead. But Dad had something against product too. Ethan thought Dad just didn't get how to use it. Or maybe he didn't get how to use it and that's what pissed Dad off. Ethan wasn't entirely sure he knew how to use it right. It wasn't like he'd had a lot of hair left to play with in the whole like product age bracket. And it always just felt sticky and chunky and waxy and stiff and gross on his hands and his forehead when he did try anyway.

But Jay knew how to do it right. But Jay really wasn't around that much. Lately. Before. But maybe that'd change now. He'd been around a bit more lately. Like really lately. And it'd been … just good … to hang with him again that day. But not really the same as before. Jay seemed kinda as sad and stressed as Dad did. Tho Ethan knew it was kinda 'bout other stuff. He sorta kinda knew what. Or he thought he did. Like Erin and the babies and the job too. But he also just didn't know. He wished he did 'cuz maybe he could help him. 'Cuz sometimes Ethan knew he seemed pretty good at cheering Dad up. Dad even said it. That he cheered him up. So maybe he could do the same for Jay. If they just hung out. But there likely wouldn't be a whole lot of time left for hanging out anymore.

"When I left, he was decorating the Christmas tree," Erin said.

Ethan let out a little sound at that. But that was a whole other thing. Like this whole giant other thing. And he was still trying to decide how he thought about and felt about all of that. And since Dad said he should think before he talked he was working at thinking before he said anything. And he'd likely say it to Dad – not Erin. But he didn't know. Maybe it'd be better to say it to Erin. But there was a whole lot he didn't say to her anymore. And now he was still kinda not sure what he was supposed to say to her 'bout anything. Even more than before. Besides she was sad and stressed about her own stuff too. But she didn't seem like as off as Dad and Jay did. Or she was real good at hiding it. Like being all undercover about it likely.

"Just in case …," she added. 'Cuz maybe groaning about it had said to her all he really needed to say without saying anything.

It was just that maybe it was a sorta good idea but it all just seemed kinda extra too. Like too much. And Ethan just didn't have the energy for that. Tho, maybe he would since Dr. Manning seemed to think giving him a burst of steroids after these antibiotics made any kinda sense. Like he wasn't a doctor but he'd been around enough doctors now to get how treatment worked. And like they weren't there for a fucking exacerbation. It was just like she didn't need to be shining lights in his eyes and shit. It wasn't a flare. It wasn't the neuritis. It was a fucking infection from the fucking port and he was super fine with it having been taken out.

But it seemed like whenever they got stuck with her in the E.R. all she ever did was reached for the Solu-Medrol. Like that was the only thing she knew about M.S. or how to deal with people with it. Here – we'll pump you full of 'roids.

Ethan was pretty sure that Dad almost hated having to come to the E.D. more than he did. Dad almost never called it E.D., tho. He said it was the E.R. or Emerg. E.D. was erectile dysfunction, he said. And he said that was about right a lot of the time. A punch of limp dicks waving their cocks around when they didn't have nothing to show and were just leaving them all hanging out in the breeze.

It was sorta funny when Dad got pissed at the doctors. It wanted a lot. He tried to be poliete and stuff but that wasn't really Dad's strong point. Sometimes he yelled. It was more when they had to go there at night. Which seemed like pretty much always. And most of the doctors and nurses that kinda knew them weren't there at night. And it was hard for Dad to get a hold of his real doctors in the middle of the night too. So then they were stuck dealing with whoever. And there were definitely people Dad liked better than others. But there were people Ethan liked better than others too. A whole lotta doctors just really sucked. And some of them just didn't seem to know what they were talking about about anything. Ethan was actually pretty sure you didn't need to be smart to be a doctor. You just had to be okay with going to school for a long-ass time. Not that they learned as much as they thought they learned going there for a long-ass time.

Like Dr. Manning and multiple sclerosis. Like it was just all one thing to here. She didn't seem to get – even though she acted like she got a whole lot of the time – that pediatric and progressive meant DIFFERENT than some grown-ass man coming in there with a flare up in his relapsing, remitting symptoms. Just pumping you full of steroids didn't fucking work with this. Sometimes he wished they'd give him Jay's brother. But Jay's brother tried to avoid treating him 'cuz of 'conflict of interest' or 'impaired perspective' or something. And E.D. always just gave him whatever pediatrician was there usually. Even though most pediatrician NEVER had to deal with M.S. in their lives since it was a grown-up disease. It was stupid. A lot of it was just so fucking stupid.

Like usually at night they could almost avoid Dr. Manning. You'd think that with it being Christmas that she'd like have asked for the day off or something. But apparently no-go. Maybe she was working overnight so she could get through Christmas without having to go to work. Ethan wished his Dad could be that lucky. But that also just wasn't how life worked. And life just wasn't fair. Dad said that too.

So they were stuck with her. And her stupid perspective. And she was clearly kinda annoying the crap out of Dad that night. Or Dad was likely just generally pissed about the whole port thing. Like he seemed more pissed than Ethan. But like Dad's money and insurance and whatever were paying for all of it. From the job that was blowing up his phone that night too and probably meaning that he wasn't going to get like even a day off for Christmas that year.

So, yeah, Ethan guessed they were both kinda mad. So it was easier to get like madder at Dr. Manning 'cuz she was the one making this take even longer and not listening so well to Dad. Or like pulling his charts fast enough or getting on the line with his real doctors who knew something about anything.

Ethan was pretty sure if she'd actually paged the neuro-ophthalmologist and not just the ophthalmologist – like Dad fucking told her, not that she fucking listened to Dad ever – that the guy would tell Manning that she was an idiot and he didn't need 'roids in his system right now. Dad had already told her that he'd be signing them out if he didn't get a second opinion on why his kid was getting antibiotics and 'roids at the same time. That she was gonna to an unnecessary number on his already fucked immune system when it was already in a fucked state thanks for the fucking faulty port they'd put in all wrong or whatever. But, yea, if they did decide to get him the Medrol, maybe getting thru like the next twenty-hour hours of like ridiculous would be easier. Maybe he'd have the energy. Even tho it'd be all phony.

It was just … Ethan got what Olive was sayin'. It sucked. But he got it. And he got what Dad said to him too. That like Henry wasn't old nuf for like … however they did the whole Christmas morning thing to make much difference to him. Like he'd still be excited to have presents and stockings and toys and all that when they did come over. And he wasn't old nuf to be all confused or questioning like why Santa left him shit in two places. Or why he got two stockings or whatever. So it didn't really matter so much.

And Dad and Olive were kinda right that mornings kinda sucked for him anyway. Like it was hard to get up and going and ready and all that. So like … this way he could just … treated it like a weekend. When Dad let him get up and on the go at his own pace without like being all at him about it since they needed to get out of the door. And that sounded kinda 'kay too. 'Cuz he'd had to get up early that day already to go to the movie.

But now it was all just sounding like exhausting and complicated. Like what? Erin and Jay were going to come over that night? And then him and Dad would do Christmas morning stuff on their own at home? And then they'd go to Jay and Erin's and do like re-do of Christmas morning with them and Henry? For like their presents and stockings and Santa stuff? Or something? And then what? Like they come back home so Dad can make dinner? And then everyone comes over for dinner?

Like … fuck that. Ethan just … he just wanted to be with his family and watch some TV and like sleep on the couch. With Bear. Like where did Bear get to be during all this? It was just so too much. And that was like the version of if Dad and Jay didn't get called into work or whatever.

"Erin …," he moaned a bit. "I just … I don't wanna be goin' everywhere."

"You and Dad can sleep—"

"I just … I want my bed and couch and all that," he pressed at her.

"Okay …," she said. "Then me and Jay can sleep over at the house."

Ethan sighed and gazed at the ceiling. Not that he could see it. But he looked at it anyway.

He kinda wanted that. Like in a lot of ways he couldn't completely wrap his head around like Christmas morning without Erin. 'Cuz it'd just always been Christmas morning with Erin. Even the Christmas where there wasn't Dad and there wasn't Justin – he'd had it with Erin. But he knew that wouldn't last now either. 'Cuz it'd only be like a year or two or something before she was basically saying the same stuff as Olive was saying.

But he also … Ethan wasn't sure she really got it. Like what night was like. And what morning was like. Now. And that was likely just gonna end up making everyone sad and stressed too. And some of it Ethan just wasn't entirely sure he really wanted her to know now. Like anymore. 'Cuz things were different. There was just stuff she didn't know about all of that anymore.

So maybe Olive's way was better. That like Erin and jay should do the same. Like they should just come over around lunch. Maybe that made sense. Maybe it'd be easier. For everyone.

But they didn't talk 'bout it. 'Cuz they didn't talk 'bout much anymore. 'Cuz it was too hard and no one wanted to like upset anyone or stress them out more than everyone already was. It was like a new rule or something. The like keep the peace and a weekend with no fighting policy. Like every time Erin came home. Sorta like when Justin used to come home. Only worse. 'Cuz it felt even more like lying.

"Where's Dad?" Erin asked again. Maybe it was better. 'Cuz maybe Dad knew how to talk to her and explain stuff better.

"I dunno. Maybe the caf or something," Ethan said. "Coffee …?"

She made this listening sound. "Not planning on sleeping…"

"Dad doesn't really sleep much," Ethan said.

'Cuz he didn't. Ethan knew that. He knew he was a big reason for it. But other things were too. But he still felt Erin look at him – kinda critical like.

"He needs his rest," she said.

"Well, I pretended to sleep so he'd take a rest," Ethan defended.

'Cuz it sure felt like she was being accusatory or something. And he tried to take care of Dad as best he could. He knew that was his job now. Since he was the one at home. That he needed to take care of Dad as much as Dad took care of him. So Dad didn't go off some deep-end. It was basically … basically why he needed to keep trying to be well. For Dad. Dad did lots for him. So he needed to do that for Dad. He got it. He knew it. But Dad did his own thing and did it all his way. And Ethan just had to do the best he could and try as hard as he could. But sometimes it was so fucking hard and so fucking exhausting. And he was still just Dad's kid. And Dad was the dad and the adult. And the one who had the job that they needed to be able to sorta pay for him to try to keep staying as well as he could for as long as he could.

Sometimes it felt like Erin didn't get all that. Or she forgot all of it. Like she couldn't remember how hard it was to take care of Dad. Or that her and Justin both told him it was his job now. When they both went away.

"It sure looked like you were sleeping," she said more gentle-like. Kinda teasing.

So Ethan let it go. Dad said you had to do that in life too. That a whole lotta shitty things and unfair things and just bad stuff happens to you in your life. That there's a lot more losses than there are wins. And you've just gotta let it go. Otherwise you are going to spend all your life pretty miserable. Dad said he deserved better than that. And he said he'd worked too hard as a dad for him to have a miserable life.

So letting things go made a lotta sense. But it was sure harder than Dad made it sound. But Ethan was pretty sure Dad knew that too. Dad had to deal with a whole lotta hard and shitty stuff too. He was right now too. Ethan could see it. He knew it. And he wanted Dad to be able to let it all go too. To not have a miserable life.

"Resting my eyes," Ethan said. 'Cuz it was true. Sometimes sleeping was hard anymore. The drugs made it hard. And the pain. And when he did sleep it was always these weird dreams. Like almost nightmares. So sometimes it was better not to sleep too. "Listening to my music."

"What you listening to?" she asked and reached for the earbud he'd pulled out of his ear and lost somewhere in the tangle of the filmy blankets they'd given him.

"Just a mix," he told her.

She already had the bud in her ear but Ethan could see that she was like giving him this all amused look.

"Don't you mean a playlist?" she said.

He only shrugged at her. Sure, it was a playlist. But he liked the idea of mixes better. Mix tapes. It just seemed more personal. And retro. Retro was kinda cool. Right now. And he could use all the like cool points he could get. Tho her look made him think that he'd lost some. Maybe he was being too extra. Eva told him that sometimes. Like he tried too hard.

But Ethan didn't think he really did. 'Cuz he just didn't care anymore. Like what anyone thought. Beyond maybe Dad. And maybe Erin. Like family. But people at school and stuff? He didn't care what they thought. He tried not to think about them at all. Like he didn't have the time or the energy to even. And it was on that list of unimportant stuff. He wasn't going to waste his breath. Let alone his energy. Or the time he had.

So he didn't care if he was extra or a loser or brain-dead or retarded or 'Bergers or a mutant or queer or all the other things they said about him at Iggy's. He tried to let all that go too. They'd done shitty things to him. And they said shitty things about him. And they still looked at him and whispered and just avoided him. It was almost worse than when they gave him shit all the time before. But he had to let it go. It was like just … high school. It'd be over. Eventually. All of it.

"And who's this angry old man you're listening to, Ethan?" Erin teased.

"Warren Zevon," he provided.

"Warren Zevon?" she put right back.

It was real clear that she didn't think he had a clue who Warren Zevon was. But he knew who he was. He knew lots 'bout music now. He'd learned from her. And he'd learned lots more from Dad now. They had music on – Dad's music – whenever they were working on the bike. He knew lots. Just like he knew lots 'bout lots of stuff. But listening to Dad's music was better. 'Cuz Dad talked then. Like told him stuff 'bout when he was a kid. And 'bout Mom. And him and Mom. And that they were their own kinda hellions too when they were teenagers and stuff too. And in their twenties. Like J's and Olive's ages. Like they'd both been pretty epic when they weren't old. Before they were parents and stuff.

He liked when Dad talked. Normal like. About rando stuff. He knew a lot of rando stuff. But it always kinda seemed like it was the important stuff. Like the stuff worth kinda knowing. Then there was the stuff that Dad didn't know anything about. Or he just thought was so stupid that he pretended that he didn't know anything about it. Just to show you basically how unimportant it was. And there was a lot of stuff in like life and the world that was kinda unimportant when you got down to it. But most people got so hung up on the unimportant stuff. First World problems and all that. Or just rich people problems. Definitely at Iggy's there were a lot of rich people problems. The real unimportant stuff that Dad didn't care about or want to waste his breathe on. Ethan liked that about him too. 'Cuz it usually meant if Dad was saying something it was important. Even when you just wanted him to shut the fuck up.

"Did you download this?" she asked.

"No," he muttered and tugged the earbud back from her. 'Cuz it felt like she was making fun of him. And he didn't want to be made of any. "I've been digitalizing stuff in the house. After school and stuff."

"That doesn't sound like homework," she said. Like she still had some sort of authority to like police him.

"It doesn't matter," he said.

And she raised an eyebrow at him. He could feel it. "It seems to matter when I'm trying to help you with it. I'm sure it matters to Dad—"

"It doesn't," he stressed at her. And he could feel her looking at him. Staring. "I'm not going to finish high school."

"Ethan—" she tried to sigh out at him and go all into some kinda lecture mode.

"I'm not," he spit. "I'll get some high school equivalency or something."

And she sat there staring at him. He could feel it. Like she didn't know what to say. Or maybe she just didn't wanna fight. And he didn't really either. But he was telling her the truth. He was being real. And sometimes now it just felt like Erin didn't want to be real 'bout any and all of this. Like she forgot. Or like catastrophize. He'd learned that word in therapy. But you can't think 'bout the worst case scenario. It only drives you even more crazy. And it makes life miserable. And, like Dad said, it wasn't worth living a miserable life. So you had to let it go.

"Since when?" she finally asked.

And Ethan only kinda shrugged. "Since like September. I guess."

And she just kinda sat there again. "Your dad hadn't said."

And he shrugged again. 'Cuz he knew there was lots that Dad didn't say. Not to him and not to Erin and not to Justin too. But like what the fuck was Dad supposed to say 'bout any of it anyway. Like what was Erin gonna do 'bout school and doctors and M.S. and optic neuritis blurriness and just fucking life there when she was all the way in New York. It wasn't like she could do much of anything.

And Ethan knew she did what she could. Like she FaceTimed him and she came home to visit. When she could. And she was – or had been – still Erin. As much as she could be. But it was different. And there was basically only so much she could do and so much she could know. Or even needed to know. 'Cuz otherwise she'd just be stressing herself out more than she likely already was. 'Cuz Ethan knew that she knew that stuff sucked. And that none of this was ideal for anyone. Whatever that meant really.

So why stress her out? Or get her overly involved?

Dad said too that Erin needed to live her own life and have her own life. And she couldn't always be living for them. He said it again that day. That especially now. That couldn't be and shouldn't be the center of Erin's universe. 'Cuz she had a life and responsibilities of her own. And that she deserved all that. That she deserved a life and for it not to be miserable – just like them too.

That her having the opportunity to have her own life and live it was part of the real reason she had to go to New York. And stay. Even tho it sucked a real lot. And was hard. That it wasn't all just 'bout how much Erin's bio mom sucked. Or them not being enough for them. Or her picking her bio mom over them or over Jay. Or anything like that. It was just something that Erin ha to do. And Dad said he felt strongly it was something she needed to do too. That she needed time away from all of them and from Chicago and to figure out how to have her own life the way she wanted. It hadn't sent her away but that she needed some time away.

And it was sort of hard to get. Ethan wasn't entirely sure it completely got it. Really. But he also knew Dad was trying hard to explain it to him. And Erin had too. And she had sorta come back in June and sorta been trying more. And Dad seemed happy she was coming home soon. So he must think she was ready to live her own life and have her own life and all that. Like she must be – or had to be – 'cuz she was having kids now. It was like she was really officially an adult. Like for real real.

But that just made it all complicated too. Ethan got it was complicated. He didn't really get entirely what Jay and Erin thought was so complicated 'bout getting married. If they were like really together and making babies together and now having kids together and living together and being in Chicago together and all that. Like they might as well just be married. It sorta sounded like they kinda already were. They used to sorta act like they were married sometimes. But mostly they kinda just acted like what he thought a big sister and a big brother should really act like. And that was sort of confusing too 'cuz he knew his whole sibling situation was different than other peoples. And like even tho Justin and Olive were married they hadn't really seemed like what he thought married people were supposed to be like. But they also hadn't really seemed like what adults were supposed to be like. And Jay and Erin kinda did. Tho sometimes they seemed more like friends than like old married people too. So maybe it was more complicated like Jay had said.

But it was really the babies that made things complicated with like Erin living her life now or having her own life now. 'Cuz it really was like she had her own life now. Like for real real. Like he and Dad just couldn't be like the center of her universe. Even when she came home.

And Ethan didn't know if she got that. Like she must get it. She's a grown up and the older sister. But maybe she didn't get it from like his perspective.

But it was like. He knew. He knew what it meant after your siblings started having kids. And then they weren't really like your siblings in the same way. Like she wouldn't really be his big sister anymore 'cuz she was gonna be people's mom now. And Ethan knew it made things super different. Like even if she said she had time for him and stuff. She wouldn't. Not really. Not like before. And he had hardly gotten to see her for like a year. And now she was gonna come home and pop out two babies and he'd really like hardly see her.

And she'd say she was seeing him and he was seeing her and they were spending time together. But it would always be with her kids now. And Ethan knew what that meant too. And he knew it was different.

It was like … he loved Henry. And Henry was starting to be pretty fun. Sometimes. And he was a good excuse to get to play with kid stuff still. And watch it. And buy it. And sometimes he could sort of piggyback on like Dad or Olive spoiling Henry and they like sorta tossed him a bone too in all of it. So you know … perk to being an uncle.

It was just like … there were drawbacks too. Like … even with Dad. When Henry was over Dad was pretty focused on Henry. And Ethan got that that was kinda the way it needed to be. But it was like Henry was kinda the center of the family and the attention when he was around. And like everything. And Ethan got that too. Like he wasn't the center of the universe. The universe had done a good job at teaching him that like … way before everyone else his age who thought like everything was all about them and this major event and catastrophe and problem. When basically they lived super cushy lives as the center of their parents' universe. And that was exactly it. You kinda became the center of your parents' universe it sorta seemed. In some ways. And maybe grandparents too. At least if your dad died or if you were Dad. When you were in the same room as them. At least.

And that would be what would happen with Erin and Jay and with the babies. And Ethan got it. Like he understood why it happened and he got they were little and they were babies and they were just kids. And little kids ARE A LOTTA FUCKING WORK. Like babysitting Henry and entertaining him and playing with him and reading to him and trying to get him to co-operate with anything was fucking exhausting. So he got it.

It was just hard. It would taking getting used to. He still needed to think about it lots. And like he didn't think he'd get really used to it until the babies were there and he could meet them. And hopefully they weren't like super high maintenance babies. And hanging out with them and Erin and babysitting and all that would be still okay. That being an uncle to three kids would be as okay as one. But … he just liked Erin differently than Justin. Like loved her. He had a different kinda relationship with her. And he was just really afraid he was gonna keep on having to miss her even after she was back home. And he missed her so fucking much.

Even though there wasn't a point in telling her stuff about what was going on at home. 'Cuz it'd just stress her out and upset her. So he didn't talk to her 'bout it. And he knew Dad didn't really either. About all the basic stuff. That maybe wasn't so basic. But it didn't matter 'cuz she still couldn't do anything 'bout any of it from New York.

"I'm getting credits and stuff from like the stuff with the tutor and RIC and Field," he muttered at her. "The state had to. 'Cuz I'm sick so much."

And she still sat there.

"I hate Iggy's anyway …," he told her. Like that might make more sense to her.

"What about college?" she finally said again. So maybe it didn't make much sense to her.

And Ethan just … forced himself not to laugh. "You can't be living in the future," was what he said to her, though. More lines of thought the fucking therapists were trying to teach him to … cope. Whatever that really meant. Coping mechanisms. "If you're always living in the future or living in the past then you miss the now. And the now is all I've really got."

And that hung there.

"That's deep, Ethan …," she finally said again. It sounded sort of teasing. Like she was really trying to make it sound teasing. But t also didn't really.

"Yea … I'm all woke …," he muttered at her. And sometimes he felt like he was. More than some people. More than a lotta people at Iggy's at least. "Anyways …," he mumbled tho, 'cuz this topic sucked giant balls. And it wasn't like he wanted to get all morbid when it was basically Christmas now. And he wished she wouldn't too. But he could kinda see and feel the way Dad and Erin kept looking at him lately. Or always. Or since June. It was morbid enough. It wasn't an awesome 'living in the now' feeling. "So I like have been digitalizing like your and J's CDs and cassettes and stuff you left. Dad had this record still. Warren Zevon. I liked it."

"Dad said you're really into music right now," Erin said. Like she didn't even know him.

Ethan just shrugged into the gurney again.

"You were really amazing last night, Eth," she tried.

And he shrugged more. "I guess," he said 'cuz he only liked taking compliments so much. "I wish they'd let me play guitar." And he let his hand dangle a bit at her. He couldn't feel it tremoring then. But it probably was. He likely just couldn't see it. The blur of the shake looked the same as the blur of everything else. "I like listening more anyways. It's just like an escape. You know?"

But he could feel her give him a kinda sad smile at that. "Yea. I do," she said.

And he knew she did. Like he knew she did. That she meant it. Like really meant it.

He fiddled with the earbud a bit. "Dad has kinda neat taste in music," he muttered. "And … when we were looking for some of his records and cassettes stuff from when he was a teenager too … that he hadn't all given to you … we found these photos of like him and Mom as kids."

"Yeah?" Erin smiled at him more real like.

"Yea …," Ethan said and tried to find her eyes. He couldn't really so he reached for his glasses that time. She still had hand them to him but he got them on and could see her a bit less blurry. Like normal blurry. "He had his hair all long. Like worse than what he hated when I had it long to, you know …" and he sorta touched at his cheek and his scar. Which now sometimes he even almost forgot was there. 'Cuz sometimes it almost seemed like that scar was the least of his worries. Like it wasn't what was gonna kill him. It just meant he'd lived. Which was kinda … badass … when you thought 'bout it a bit.

"Yeah?" Erin smiled again. Like maybe she'd never seen pictures of Dad as a kid either. Or maybe it was just real hard to imagine Dad as a kid. Like it felt like Dad musta been born like fifty something.

"Yea," he nodded. "And like he even wore a headband. Like a banana thing. And jean jacket. Like him and Mom look like … I don't know like some total wannabe biker gang or something. Like outta ET and Stranger Things Season Two combined. Like Max's brother. Dad says it was a rocker look. But pretty much you'd get completely taken down if you went out like that now."

Her smiled more. "Always the tough guy, your dad."

Ethan smiled and tugged at the sheet a bit. "Yeah … he's kinda aces." And he looked more directly at her. "So … just don't stress him out with Christmas, Erin. Like him and Jay has …" he shook his head at her. "They've just be way off like all fall and way busy and stressed. So … I'm seriously … okay with it all being low key. I mean that's what I can handle anyway. And they don't need to be all stressed or getting like angry or frustrated and all that."

"I'm not trying to stress out or frustrate anyone," she said. "I'm just trying to make sure I get to see you as much as I can in the few days I'm home."

Ethan sighed. "Yeah, but you don't get what it's been like—"

"Is this about the pregnancy?" she all laid down in there.

And he stared at her. Like he tried to glare actually. "Erin, seriously. Not everything is about you."

And that kinda shut her up. But he also could sorta feel – sorta see – her shift a bit. Like he'd be the one to lay it right back at her. Like he'd lit into her more than he meant to. So he sunk back ino the the pad on the gurney and sighed even harder. He stared at the ceiling even more.

"I just …," he mumbled. "I just hadn't ever really thought about you being a mom. Or … I don't know … it was like … way in the future. When I wasn't a kid anymore too."

And he felt her find his hand at that. Like she held it and he stared at it.

"Eth, it's hard for me to imagine myself as a mom too. But, if we're going to be living in the now. Right now … I really … want my kids to get to meet you and know you. I want you to be able to have that too. To know them and hold them and play with them. And I know that's big, woke stuff too. But I also know … you aren't a little kid anymore."

And she squeezed at his hand. It almost hurt but he held onto hers. Even though he sorta felt like his eyes were getting all watery. But he was just so fucking tired.

"I just miss you so much," he said and his voice cracked. And he hated that. So he reached and swatted at his eyes. He tried to make it so she wouldn't see he was crying. Or that he might.

"I miss you so much too, Eth," she said.

He let out a shaky breath and rolled his head to look at her again. "It's just like like all fall. Dad – and Jay – I don't know. Something's been hopping bad at work. I like see Dad … like maybe an hour every night. And … it's his Christmas too if work doesn't go all blowing up. I wanna spend time with him. Too. Like the real him. You know? And if Christmas is all complicated and frustrating and stressful … that's not how it's going to be. So … I'm …. I'm seriously okay with just rolling with the Olive thing. I mean … it's like Dad says—"

"What do I say?" Dad all gravelled from just in the door. He was back.

"Christmastime is family time," Ethan said. "And you just want everyone to get along."

Dad did that grunt thing he did. "All I want for Christmas," he agreed.

And Ethan felt him go over to Erin. To hand her something. He could smell it. And he felt her smile again.

"How'd you know?" she said.

"Mmm …," Dad allowed. "Figured."

"A little early isn't it?" she teased him.

But Dad was coming around to the other side of the bed. To check out all the stuff they still had attached to him.

"Rough night," he said.

"Could've sent me the details of said rough night and saved me the trip," Erin said.

Dad lay his hand against his forehead. "That port they left in him was infected," Dad said. "Fever. Giving him a burst of antibiotics. Got it out. Pressure packed."

"Nurse Maggie says Dad could have her job as a second career," Ethan said.

"He definitely has the bedside manner for that," Erin teased.

"He's only yelled at Natalie tonight," Ethan told her.

"Didn't yell," Dad said real stern and turned his attention to Erin. "She just was looking at it through flare lens. Had her tap the brakes a bit before she had us set up for a Roid Rage Christmas." Dad's hand ran down his cheek and pulled down the neck of his gown a bit – feeling against his chest and likely looking at the pressure bandage they'd wrapped him up in. "Ophthalmologist is here, Magoo. Should stick his head in soon."

Ethan let out a breath. Like thank God. Taken the guy long enough.

"Why do they did an ophthalmologist to look at him?" Erin asked

Dad made that dismissive noise. "Call put out before the brakes got tapped. It's fine." Dad tapped at the IV bag. "Looks like this is done, E. I'll do a little barking and see if we can get that blood draw and work at speeding this up. Big day. Want to get outta here."

"Big day?" Erin asked him as he heard Dad go back out the glass doors. Ethan could barely make out him leaning against the nursing station desk trying to be polite but not being polite. 'Cuz he was used to being the one giving orders.

"We're gonna watch Christmas movies that aren't Christmas movies while Dad's doing food prep and stuff," he told her.

He could tell she smiled at that. "So You're going to watch Die Hard without me?" she said.

Ethan smiled. "Maybe. We could save it. We're likely going to watch Hook and Jurassic World too."

"Those aren't Christmas movies that aren't Christmas movies," Erin argued.

"Totally are," Ethan argued right back. "Guess you'll have to come watch them too."

She reached and squeezed his hand again. It was warm from the coffee. "Maybe," she said. "I need to check with Jay. I should be spending time with him too."

And Ethan squeezed her hand back too. As hard as he could manage. "Yea … he is like the father to your babies."

"He is that," she agreed.

"And … he's had a shitty fall too," Ethan said. And Erin held his hand hard too.

'Cuz they all had. But it was going to get better. Dad said that a lot too. That it was going to get better. And Dad was using his breath to say it. So it must be important. And it must be true. So Ethan would give him the benefit of the doubt. He'd try to believe him.

It was gonna get better. Soon.


End file.
